LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



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UNITED STATES OF AMEJUCA. 




R. E. McBRIDE. 



IN THE RANKS 



FROM THE 



Wilderness to Appomattox Court-House, 



THE WAR, 



AS SEEN AND EXPERIENCED BY A PRIVATE SOLDIER IN THE 
ARMY OF THE POTOMAC. 



By REV. R. E. M'BRIDE. 



A tale of the times of old. The deeds of days of other years. 

HK 

CINCINNATI : 
PRINTED BY WALDEN & STOWE, 

FOR THE AUTHOR. 

1SS1 

7r 



Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1881, by 

R. E. M'BRIDE, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



PREFACE 



TN giving this book to the public we do so 
-^ under the same plea which justifies those 
pleasant gatherings called "reunions," where 
men of the same regiment, corps, or army, 
meet to extend friendly greetings to each 
other, to friends, and all comrades in arms. 

The writer has found it a pleasant task to 
recall the scenes of fifteen years ago, when, a 
mere boy in years, he had a part in the events 
here recorded. He is conscious of a kindly 
affection toward the men who were his com- 
panions during those stirring times. Kind- 
ness, thoughtfulness, forbearance, toward the 
boy-soldier, are not forgotten. If he found 
any thing different from these in his inter- 
course with men or officers, it has passed from 
memory, and he would not recall it if he could. 



4 Preface. 

We trust, also, that this work may have a 
mission of utility to the generation that has 
grown up since the war. 

There is a certain almost indefinable some- 
thing, which has been summed up under 
the expression, "military traditions." This 
comes not alone from formal histories of the 
wars of the nation, but more largely from the 
history which each soldier carried home with 
him after the war was over. It meant some- 
thing more than a certain amount of small 
family vanity, when men used to say, "My 
father was a soldier of the Revolution ; " "My 
father fought at Lundy's Lane." 

There lay back of this the stories told to 
wondering little ones while they gathered 
around the arm-chair of the soldier grand- 
father. Here were planted the seeds of mil- 
itary ardor that found expression at Gettys- 
burg, Vicksburg, Atlanta, and the Wilderness. 
It is thus the past of the nation projects itself 
into the present. Our comrades that sleep 
down yonder guard their country more effect- 
ually than if, full armed, they kept unceasing 



Preface. 5 

watch on all her borders. Though dead, they 
yet speak, — yes live, in the spirit which yet 
lives in the hearts of their countrymen. The 
cause they died for our children will love ; the 
institutions they preserved at such cost, our 
sons will perpetuate by intelligent devotion to 
freedom and her laws. 

Is it in vain, then, my comrade, that I sit 
down in your family circle, and tell your chil- 
dren the story of our hardships, trials, reverses, 
victories? 

This narrative is submitted to you almost 
as first written, when intended only for the 
perusal of my own family. In recounting 
events subsequent to August 19, 1864, when 
the One Hundred and Ninetieth is spoken of, 
the One Hundred and Ninety-first is also in- 
cluded, as they were practically one. 

Since completing the work, the author has 
learned that the report of the Adjutant-gen- 
eral of Pennsylvania gives these regiments, 
the One Hundred and Ninetieth and One Hun- 
dred and Ninety-first, no credit for service sub- 
sequent to the battle of Welden Railroad, in 



6 Preface. 

August, 1864. We give an explanation of 
this in the closing chapter, and send forth this 
volume, hoping that it may serve, in some 
measure, to do justice to as devoted a body 
of men as Pennsylvania sent to the field. 
Seneca, Kansas, March, 1881. 



CONTENTS 



PAGE. 

Alexander, John, 25 

Appomattox Battle, 215 

Amusements, 93, 158 

Bethsaida Church, 66 

Birkman, Capt., 72, 118 

Boggs, Lieut., 35 

Baiers, Lieut 21 

Carle, Col., 94, ioo, 225 

Coleman, Mike, .... 26, 68, 172, 182 

Coleman, Sergt, ..... 47, 72 

Culp, Eckard, 68 

Craig, Wm., 39 

Delo, Chaplain, 59 

Dodds, Jasper, 21 

Dunn, Geo., . 134 

Dillinger, 121 

Eshelman, Abe 26, 85 

Elliot, John, . 28 

Execution, . 133 

Edgar, John 170 

7 



8 Contents. 

Fort Federal Hill, ... . ^ 

Fort Steadman, . " ■ #5 

Five Forks Battle, . . j g g 

Gaines' Mill Battle, 

Ginter, 2 ° 

Ghosts, . . ..'.'. " ' ' 2I? 

Graham, Daniel, . t 9 

Gravelly Run Battle, . . ° 

Grossman, Louis, . 

4o 

Harris, Wm., . 

Hatcher's Run Battle, . . ] 3 } 

Hartshorn ' ' ' H * 

Hayden, Lieut., . 73 

Hop, . 7 3' 221 

135 

Jones, Capt., 

.... 31 

Kinsey, Capt., 

Kenedy, W. H. H. ' ' 73 ' I2 ° 
' 224 

M'Cullough, M. F., 

M'Guire, J., . 3I 

Miller, Ed., . * 35 

Moreland, C. L., . ' , 

»«■ . ' 03, 100 

Mortars, gg 

Mushrush, Benj., . 

North Ann River Battle, ... 62 

Overdoff, . 

' 120 



Contents. 



Petersburg, 
Pattee, Col., 
Peacock, Lieut., 
Preston, Geo., . 



PAGE. 

, . . . 85 

73 ; 85, 118, 179, 219 

. 118 



121 



Quaker Road Battle, 



Robbins, 

Rowanty Creek Battle, .... 

Running the Gauntlet, 

Rutter, Wm, 85 



Ramrods, 



171 

215 
148 

90 



93 



Stanley, John, . . . . . . 31, 69 

Stewart, Joe, 
Stewart, Capt., 
Steen, David, . 
Shaffer, J., . . . 
Spottsylvania, . 



Walb, L. C, 

Welden Railroad, 
Welden Raid, 
White, Allen, . 
White Oak Swamp Battle, 
Wilderness Battle, . 
Woods, O'Harra, 
Wright, Ernest, 
Whisky, 



25 

22 

33 
68 

37 

204 

118 

124 

3i 

75 

3° 

22 

218 

140 



INTRODUCTION 



I HAVE long purposed the following work, 
designing to put in a form somewhat per- 
manent my recollections of experiences in the 
great war, believing it may be a source of sat- 
isfaction to my children in later years. Al- 
ready many of those scenes begin to appear 
dim and dreamlike, through the receding years, 
and many faces, once so clearly pictured in 
memory as seen around the camp-fire, in the 
march, and on the field of battle, have faded 
quite away. These things admonish me that 
what is done must be done quickly. 

In the following pages you will find the 
names of men otherwise unknown, because 
their part in the great conflict was an humble 
one, yet none the less grand and heroic. This 
is written during the brief and uncertain in- 
tervals of leisure that may be caught up here 
and there amid the pressing work of the pas- 
torate. You will not, then, I trust, under- 
value it because of literary blemishes. It is 



1 2 Introduction. 

Jnstory as really as more pretentious works. 
It is a specimen of the minntice of history, a 
story of the war as seen by a private in the 
ranks, not by one who, as a favored spectator, 
could survey the movements of a whole army 
at a glance, and hence could, must, individu- 
alize brigades, divisions, army corps. It is the 
war in field, woods, underbrush, picket-post, 
skirmish-line, camp, march, bivouac. During 
1864 no memorandum was kept, and a diary 
kept during the spring of 1865 was lost, with- 
in a year after the close of the war. Hence 
I have depended on memory alone, aided in 
fixing dates, etc., by reference to written 
works. Beyond this, the histories consulted 
were of little assistance, as their record of 
events sometimes differed materially from my 
recollection of them. In such cases I tell 
my own story, as the object is to record these 
things as they appeared to me. 

In recording events of which I was not 
myself a witness, I give the story as heard 
from the lips of comrades. Such portions are 
easily discernible in the body of the narrative. 
You can have them for what they are worth. 

" I can not tell how the truth may be, 
I tell the tale as 'twas told to me." 



In the JJanks. 



Chapter I 



WAR!' 



IT is a little word. A child may pronounce 
it ; but what word that ever fell from hu- 
man lips has a meaning full of such intensity 
of horror as this little word? At its sound 
there rises up a grim vision of "confused 
noise and garments rolled in blood." April 
12, 1 86 1, cannon fired by traitor hands, 
boomed out over Charleston harbor. The 
dire sound that shook the air that Spring 
morning did not die away in reverberating 
echoes from sea to shore, from island to head- 
land. It rolled on through all the land, over 
mountain and valley, moaning in every home, 
at every fireside, "War! War! War!" 

Are we a civilized people? What is civ- 
ilization ? Is it possible to eliminate the 
tiger from human nature? Who would have 



14 In the Ranks. 

dreamed that the men of the North, busy 
with plowing and sowing, planning, contriv- 
ing, inventing, could prove themselves on a 
hundred battle-fields a fiercely warlike people ? 
The world looked on with wonder as they 
rushed eagerly into the conflict, pouring out 
their blood like water and their wealth with- 
out measure, for a sentiment, a principle, that 
may be summed up in the one word — "na- 
tionality." "The great uprising " was not the 
movement of a blind, unreasoning impulse. 
A fire had been smoldering in the North for 
years. The first cannon shot, that hurtled 
around the old flag as it floated over the walls 
of Fort Sumter shook down the barriers that 
confined it, and the free winds of liberty 
fanned it to a devouring flame. 

The Yankee — let the name be proudly 
spoken — as he turned the furrow, stood by his 
work bench, or listened to the jarring clank 
of his machinery, had mused with heavy heart 
and shame-flushed cheek how a haughty, 
brutal, un-American spirit had drawn a line 
across the land, and said, " Beyond this is 
not your country. Here your free speech, 
free labor, and free thought shall never come." 
While this line was imaginary, he had waited 



"War." 15 

for better days and larger thought to change 
the current of the times ; but when it was 
transformed into bristling bayonets and frown- 
ing cannon, the tiger rose up within him, and 
with unquestioning faith he took up the gauge 
of battle. Men talked of the "cold blood of 
the North." That blood had surged impetu- 
ously through the veins of warrior freemen 
for a hundred generations. Here in the New 
World it had lost none of its vigor. The 
sturdy spirit that in other years ruled the 
hand that wielded the battle-ax, still ruled, 
when the hand was employed in subduing 
mountain and prairie. The North was averse 
to war, because it was rising to that higher 
civilization that abhors violence, discards brute 
methods, and relies on the intellectual and 
moral. Such a people, driven to desperation, 
move right forward to the accomplishment of 
their object with a scorn of cost or conse- 
quences unknown to a lower type. Hence it 
is that the people of the North, without hesi- 
tation, grappled with a rebellion the most for- 
midable ever successfully encountered by any 
government. For a like reason their great 
armies, melting away like frost before the 
sun when the rebel flag went down, mingled 



1 6 In the Ranks. 

again with the people without jar or con- 
fusion. 

Turning away from a half million graves, 
wherein they had buried their slain, their 
bravest and best beloved, they forgot all bit- 
terness for joy that peace had come. No 
people in the world had greater reason for 
severity than the victors in this strife. War, 
willful, unprovoked, without the shadow of 
justification, had been thrust upon them. 
This had been preceded by a series of usurpa- 
tions the most unblushing ever endured by a 
free people. These were a part of the plan 
of a band of traitors, who had plotted for 
years to overthrow the existing order of 
things, and establish an empire with human 
slavery for its chief corner-stone. 

The "Golden Circle," with its center at 
Havana, Cuba, its radii extending to Penn- 
sylvania on the North, the isthmus on the 
south, and sweeping from shore to shore, was 
the bold dream of the men who plotted the 
destruction of the American republic. Their 
object was pursued with a 'cold-blooded disre- 
gard of all right, human and divine, worthy 
of the pagan brutality of the Roman Trium- 
virate. Prating about the "Constitution" 



" War." ly 

with hypocritical cant, they trampled upon 
every safeguard of popular liberty, and at last, 
in defiance of even the forms of law, plunged 
the people of the Southern States into a war 
with the government, which, even if success- 
ful in securing a separation, could only have 
been the beginning of woes, as their plans 
would develop. 

But notwithstanding the heinousness of the 
accomplished crime, not a man was punished. 
It is doubtful whether popular opinion would 
have approved the punishment of even the 
arch-traitor, Jeff Davis. The common sen- 
timent was expressed by the oft-repeated 
verdict: " Enough of blood has been shed." 
Whether this was wise or not it is vain to 
inquire. Perhaps the future will vindicate the 
wisdom of the generous course of the govern- 
ment. Thus far it has seemed like folly. 
The South has shown a persistent vindictive- 
ness unequaled in the history of any people, 
a cruelty toward the helpless victims of their 
hate that is shameful to the last degree. The 
cowardly assassination of political opponents, 
the brutal murder of black men, women, and 
children, has been defended openly or covertly 
by pulpit, press, and platform. If any disap- 
2 



18 In the Ranks. 

prove, their voice is not heard in condem- 
nation of the wrong. 

This may have resulted partly from the fact 
that many of the people of the North, notably 
many so-called statesmen, ignored common 
sense and gave way to gush and sentiment. 
There is nothing gained in this prosy world 
by calling black white. The leaders of the 
rebellion were guilty of the horrible crime of 
treason, and we baptized it something else. 
The result is manifest to all who are not will- 
fully and wickedly blind to the facts. 

Yet it is the part of duty to hope for the 
speedy coming of an era of calmer judgment, 
of real and healthy patriotism, when every 
American citizen will claim our whole land as 
his country. 



Beginning of the War. 19 



Chapter II. 

WHEN the civil war began, my home was 
with the family of Mr. John Dunn, in 
Butler County, Pennsylvania. The old gentle- 
man was a Democrat, and at first had little to 
say about the war. One evening he returned 
from the village in a state of intense excite- 
ment. He had heard of the disastrous battle 
at Bull Run. It is no exaggeration to say that 
he "pranced" around the room, chewing his 
tobacco with great vigor, telling how many of 
our "poor boys" had been slaughtered by 

the rebels. His apathy was at an end. 

He could see where the line lay between 
treason and patriotism, when once that line 
was traced in blood. 

At this time two Butler County companies, 
C and D, of the Eleventh Pennsylvania Re- 
serve Volunteer Corps, were in camp near 
Pittsburg. The corps was sent forward to 
Washington at once, and from that time till 
the close of their term of service, they gal- 
lantly represented the Keystone State in every 



20 In the Ranks. 

battle fought by the Army of the Potomac. 
My brother, Wm. A., was a private in Com- 
pany C. He enlisted June 10, 1861, and fell, 
with many other brave men, at the battle of 
Gaines' Mill, June 2J, 1862. 

From what I could learn from those who 
were present, the following are the facts con- 
cerning the disaster which befell the regiment 
in this engagement, and my brother's death: 

Late in the afternoon of the 27th, the 
Eleventh moved forward to relieve a New 
Jersey regiment, which had been fighting in 
a piece of woods near the center of the line. 
The rebels came swarming against them, line 
after line, but were continually driven back by 
the relentless volleys that blazed out from the 
ranks of the Eleventh. Unfortunately, about 
the time they became engaged, the line on 
either side of them was driven back, and they 
were left to contend alone against terrible odds. 
Neither men nor officers knew their real sit- 
uation until men began to fall, from volleys 
poured into them from the flanks. Major 
Johns went in the direction from which the 
fire was coming, thinking that some of our 
own troops were firing on them through mis- 
take. He was made prisoner. Adjutant 



Prison. 2 1 

M'Coy was ordered to report the condition of 
things to General Mead. On reaching the 
open ground, he saw the battle flags of nine 
rebel regiments on the flank and rear. He at 
once reported to the colonel. Orders were 
given to fall back, the intention being to hew 
a way out through the enemy. At this point 
my brother fell. Having just loaded his gun 
as the command was given to move toward 
the rear, he paused to give a parting shot. 
A bullet struck him in the face, penetrating 
the brain, and he fell dead. 

The regiment, hemmed in on every side 
by overwhelming numbers, with one-fourth of 
their number killed or wounded, at last sur- 
rendered. Company D lost eight men, killed, 
in this engagement, besides a number mortally 
wounded or permanently disabled. Of the 
former was Jasper Dodds, 'who was wounded 
in the knee by a rifle ball. After being re- 
moved to Richmond, he wrote a cheerful let- 
ter to his mother and friends at home, no 
doubt expecting to recover. He died July 
1 8th. Jacob Baiers, then sergeant, afterwards 
promoted to captain, was shot through the 
lungs, and never wholly recovered. He con- 
tinued in service, however, until April, 1864. 



22 In the Ranks. 

The regiment was exchanged in time to par- 
ticipate in the second Bull Run battle, where 
again their loss was terrible. Seven men of 
Company D were killed or mortally wounded. 
It is said that Jesse Fry and Boss. M'Cul- 
lough were the only men of the company on 
their feet and unhurt at the close of the battle. 
Scarcely were their ranks somewhat filled up 
by returning convalescents, when the other 
great battles followed. On every field they left 
their dead. "South Mountain," "Antietam," 
"Fredericksburg," — these words you can see 
in the muster roll, after that word which even 
yet chills the heart, "killed." Captain Stew- 
art was struck through the breast at Freder- 
icksburg, and died in two hours. Young 
O'Harra Woods was promoted for gallant 
conduct in this battle. The honor was well 
bestowed and nobly borne. He fell at Gettys- 
burg, July 2, 1863, bravely leading his men 
in that great battle. But why particularize; 
brave men all. 

'•'Theirs not to make reply, 
Theirs not to reason why, 
Theirs but to do and die." 



Enlisting. 23 



Chapter III. 

BUTLER COUNTY, famous for rocks, 
hills, buckwheat, psalm-singing, and soap 
mines. Psalm singing? Yes. The sturdy 
Scotch-Irish that grew among her hills, as a 
rule, would sing to the Lord with no other 
words than those of the warrior king and the 
holy men of old. Have you heard their sol- 
emn songs? I hear them to-night — it is not 
imagination, not "their songs," but "our 
songs." A voice of singing floats down 
through the years, very holy and very ten- 
der; for now all the singers are "evermore 
before the throne," except two, whose infant 
lips could scarce pronounce the words : 

" Lord, bless and pity us, 

Shine on us with thy face ; 
That th' earth thy way, and nations all 
May know thy saving grace." 

Yes, psalm-singing ! But the soap mines ? 
We protest! We have hunted huckleberries 
on her hills ; we have pursued the ground-hog 
in her woods, the 'coon around her corn- 



24 In the Ranks. 

fields ; we have swum and fished in her spark- 
ling streams ; from Dan to Beersheba we 
have worked, played, done ' ' many things we 
ought not to have done," and left undone 
many things it was our duty to do; but we 
never saw a soap mine. We can testify 
before all the world that the people of Butler 
County make their soap in the usual innocent 
and odorous manner. 

Prospect, Butler County, a dreamy village 
of the olden time. The houses accommodate 
themselves to the cross-roads. One road 
stretches from the county seat westward ; the 
other from the "stone house" goes winding 
along toward Pittsburg. The houses have also 
a contented, self satisfied look ; the stores and 
the tavern seem to consider themselves per- 
manent factors in the world's machinery. On 
a pleasant day an "honorable" or two might 
be seen sunning themselves in front of store 
or tavern, whittling, and adding dignity to 
the surroundings. 

In this quiet village one chilly morning 
in December, 1863, the writer mounted the 
stage-coach and went rattling over the frozen 
ground toward Pittsburg, to enlist in the 
volunteer service. Just seventeen years ago 



In Camp. 25 

that very morning I had begun the business 
of life on rather limited capital ; and although 
it had been improved with considerable suc- 
cess, yet the kindly prophecies, particularly 
of my copperhead friends, did not portend a 
very lengthy nor brilliant military career. 
The next day I made my way to the provost- 
marshal's office, and, after due examination, 
was pronounced all right, and sworn into 
the service. If I lied about my age, oblig- 
ing memory has written it over with some- 
thing else, and it is gone from me. But I 

think Captain , of Prospect, did the lying ; 

at least let us hope that he has sufficiently 
repented of it long ere this. 

I selected Company D, of the Eleventh 
Pennsylvania Regular Volunteer Corps, and 
was assigned accordingly. The recruits were 
retained for some time at Camp Copeland, 
then about the dreariest, most uncomfortable 
place I ever saw ; shelter and provisions in- 
sufficient, bad whisky and blacklegs abun- 
dant. Joe Stewart, John Alexander, and my- 
self tented together here. They had enlisted 
for the One Hundredth Pennsylvania, the 
" Roundheads." Joe was an old acquaintance. 
He served gallantly till the close of the war. 



26 In the Ranks. 

John was a noble boy and found a soldier's 
death at Cold Harbor. After one of the 
fruitless charges made there, when the Round- 
heads came back foiled of their purpose, 
John was not with them. In the darkness of 
night which quickly closed around, Joe went 
out to search for him. As he was picking 
his way steathily among the dead and dying, 
he heard a well known voice calling softly 
near by, "Joe, Joe, is that you?" It was 
John, lying there, shot through the breast. 
He warned his rescuer to be very cautious, as 
the rebel videttes were near. With much 
difficulty he got him back to our lines. This 
was the night of June 2d, and he died on 
the 4th. 

I left the latter part of January to join the 
regiment, then camped at Bristor Station, on 
the Orange and Alexandria Railroad. With 
me were two recruits for Company E, Abe 
Eshelman and Mike Coleman. The former 
was killed at Petersburg ; the latter, a live 
Irishman, was mustered out at the close of 
the war, after a year and a half of valiant 
service for his adopted country. We went 
by Harrisburg, Baltimore, and Washington, 
thence by the Orange and Alexandria road, 



In Front. 27 

every mile historic ground, past Bull Run, 
where, the soldiers say, the dead would not 
stay buried, and finally we alight at Bristor 
Station? On the right over there are the 
Bucktails ; a little further toward the west the 
Second is camped. Over the hill toward 
Brentsville, past the artillery camp, is the 
Eleventh. 

Here I found John Elliot, who had served 
with the regiment since its organization. He, 
brother William, and myself had been boy 
companions before the war, although I was 
younger than they. I went into the mess with 
him, S. L. Parker, and Benjamin Mushrush. 
After being with them but a short time, I 
was taken with that scourge of the army, 
measles, and was removed to the surgeon's tent. 
I was on picket when the disease made itself 
felt. The day and night on which I was on 
duty were stormy, rain and snow. As a 
result, I had a lively time of it. The disease 
left my voice so impaired that, for a long 
time, I was unable to speak above a whisper. 
During my stay at the surgeon's tent, I em- 
ployed myself studying his books on surgery, 
and acquired a knowledge on the subject 
which was utilized at a later period. 



28 In the Ranks. 

John Elliot had enlisted April 25, 1861, 
although not mustered into the United States 
service until July 5th of the same year. He 
felt that he should be mustered out at the 
former date of 1864. As the time drew near 
we conversed frequently on the subject, and 
he was in some perplexity as to duty in the 
case. The morning of the 25th found him on 
picket. I prepared the morning meal for the 
mess and then relieved him until he should 
breakfast. Soon he returned in a more than 
usually cheerful spirit. After chatting pleas- 
antly for a time, he spoke of his term of 
enlistment. 

" I have that matter all arranged now," he 
said, "as far as I am concerned. I am not 
certain whether the government has a right 
to hold me any longer or not ; but I will stay 
till it sees fit to discharge me. The country 
needs soldiers this Spring. I would like to 
visit home. It 's been three years since I saw 
mother and the boys ; but it 's all right. God 
has kept me safely through all these battles, 
and I can trust him for time to come." 

This was the substance of his language, 
his exact words, as near as I can remember. 
They are noble words ; as grand as ever fell 



John Elliot. 29 

from the lips of Christian hero. Many a time 
afterward they were an inspiration to me. 
His face was bright that beautiful Spring 
morning with a joy that was not of earth. 
The night watches had been spent commun- 
ing with God, — yes, face to face. Had he 
known that the midsummer sun would look 
down upon his grave, would his decision have 
been different? I think not. He knew too 
much of war and battles not to count the cost. 
From a Southern prison-pen his brave spirit 
went up to God. 



30 In the Ranks. 



Chapter IV- 

APRIL 29th we broke camp and proceeded 
to near Culpepper Court-house. Before 
leaving camp we sent our extra baggage, cloth- 
ing, etc., to Washington, and, of course, never 
saw them again. During the night of May 
3d we marched for the Rapidan, crossing at 
Germania Ford. The next evening we camped 
in order of battle near the Wilderness Tavern. 
The following morning the division moved out 
on a country road toward Robertson's Tavern. 
Passing through woods, we came to an open 
field, where line of battle was formed. The 
Bucktails were in front, skirmishing. We 
could see them on the ridge, and their oc- 
casional shouts and rapid firing showed that 
the battle had begun. For the first time I 
heard the whistle of the rifle ball, as a stray 
one now and then whistled over the line of 
battle. After waiting thus for some time, we 
moved back some distance, in the direction 
from which we had come. Here I spoke a 



Wilderness. 3 1 

few words with John Elliot, the last we ever 
exchanged. In the confusion which followed 
he was made prisoner, and died at Anderson- 
ville. Soon the noise of battle began to deepen 
in our front and at the right. Hurried orders 
were received ; the line moved by the right 
flank, double-quick. The Seventh Regiment 
deployed and vanished into the woods, for- 
ward, and the Eleventh followed in line of 
battle. Moving on through the thick under- 
brush, the enemy was quickly encountered. 
Their first volley was deadly. A ball struck 
Boss. M'Cullough in the forehead. He fell 
dead, a portion of his shattered brain lodging 
on the arm of John Stanley, a boy of seven- 
teen, who had come to us during the Spring. 
John shuddered, shook it from the sleeve of 
his blouse, raised his gun and began firing. 
Captain Jones, of Company A, White, of 
Company C, and many others, fell dead before 
this first volley. Soon it was discovered that 
the division was flanked. Our line was at right 
angles with the position in which the subse- 
quent fighting took place. To crown all, the 
woods took fire, and soon the only problem 
that remained was to withdraw as quickly and 
safely as possible. 



32 In the Ranks. 

While this turmoil was progressing, to me 
so strange and bewildering, the surgeon, Dr. 
Lyon, came across me, and directed me to go 
to a certain point at the edge of the woods, 
east of the Wilderness Tavern, to help care 
for the wounded. Thither I made my way. 
As I passed on through the woods, I was soon 
out of reach of the bullets, which had been 
flying thick and fast. When I came to the 
open ground, I saw more clearly than ever 
the results of the battle, still going on in the 
woods beyond. The multitude of wounded 
and dying men crowded the road. Some were 
limping painfully along; others were being 
carried on stretchers, or helped along by com- 
rades. 

Reaching the designated place, I found the 
field tents erected, and all full of suffering 
men. I took charge of one in which were 
twenty-seven wounded, several amputations, 
and other bad cases. They lay with their 
heads toward the canvas, a narrow path be- 
ing left between their feet. All that could be 
done for them was to give them food and 
water, bathe their wounds, and render any 
little service by which their sufferings might 
be mitigated. Their heroic patience aston- 



Battle. 33 

ished me. Men, torn and mangled, would 
utter no groan, nor give any vocal expression 
to the agonies which racked them, except 
sometimes when sleep or delirium found the 
overmastering will off guard. 

Toward evening I learned that the regi- 
ment was just beyond the Wilderness tavern ; 
and, getting relieved for a short time, I started 
to go to them, as I had the extra coffee of 
the mess. As I came in sight, they moved 
hurriedly away toward the right, where the 
battle was raging fiercely. It was useless to 
follow, and I began to retrace my steps. 
Pausing a moment on an elevated knoll, I 
gazed on the strange scene that spread out 
before me. From the right on the turnpike, 
a line, somewhat curved, extended a distance 
of three or four miles to the left. On the 
right the line was enveloped in woods, in 
which a terrific conflict was going on. Sedg- 
wick's corps was standing between the army 
and disaster. In the center, on elevated 
ground, beyond some low woods, I could see 
a rebel line of battle, while the sharp fire of 
skirmishers in front showed that here the lines 
of blue and gray would soon smite together. 
Further toward the left, a line of blue ex- 
3 



34 In the Ranks. 

tended along the edge of a narrow field, fac- 
ing the woods just beyond, into which it 
poured incessant volleys, while the smoke that 
rose up from the woods showed that an active 
foe was there. Behind our line, flat on 
the ground, lay a second one. A tragedy, 
grandly, awfully sublime, was enacting before 
me. A hundred thousand men were grap- 
pling in deadly conflict. While I gazed the 
line of battle slackened its fire ; the second 
one rose from the ground ; then both swept 
forward across the field and into the woods 
beyond, bearing the enemy before them. For 
a few moments there was silence, and then 
the struggle was renewed as fiercely as ever. 
I returned to the field-tents to go on with my 
work of mercy among the suffering. 

As night drew on the battle ceased, and 
the men lay down to sleep where they had 
fought, ready to renew the strife at the return 
of light. In the tents there, while the army 
beyond was resting, part of our nation's 
heroes continued the contest through the 
solemn hours of night. They fought with 
the giant Pain, and some of them went down 
into the dark valley, and close by the chill 
waters they faced the King of Terrors. 



Heroes. 35 

I slept none that night. As morning ap- 
proached, I went to the edge of the little 
opening which had been cleared in the woods 
for the tents. While I stood here looking off 
toward the scene of yesterday's battle, the 
sound of a single rifle shot rang out on the air, 
then another and another, and then a deafen- 
ing roar of musketry burst forth and raged 
along the whole line, continuing almost with- 
out interruption all day. 

In the afternoon Lieutenant Boggs and 
David Steen were brought in wounded, the 
former by a rifle ball in the thigh, the latter 
severely bruised by a fragment of shell. He 
had been wounded at Gaines' Mill and Fred- 
ericksburg. After his return this time, I 
heard him say that he had come to have 
more dread of going into battle since he had 
been wounded so often. Still he never shrank 
from duty. He was killed the following Au- 
gust at Welden Railroad. 

Here I saw the only instance of impa- 
tience on the part of a wounded man of 
which I have any recollection. A young 
fellow lay about the middle of the tent, 
wounded in the knee, a ball having cut the 
skin on one bide without injuring the bone. 



36 In the Ranks. 

His long legs were extended almost across 
the narrow path along which I was compelled 
to walk in passing from one to another. He 
Avas grumbling and complaining, demanding 
and receiving attentions in a gruff and un- 
civil manner. He would also mutter threat- 
enings of what he would do should I hurt 
him in stepping over his crooked legs out- 
stretched in my way. To all of this I paid no 
attention and signs of ill-nature continued. 
Finally, a bright young man opposite, whose 
leg was amputated at the thigh, raised him- 
self on his elbow and proceeded to express 
his opinion of such conduct in language much 
more forcible than pious. 

From this place we moved some distance 
to the left, where the tents were erected in an 
open field. Here an incident occurred which 
illustrates the false estimate placed upon the 
civilization of the North by the masses of the 
South. A wounded rebel, an intelligent-look- 
ing young man, was brought in from the field 
in an ambulance. We came with a stretcher 
to carry him into the tent. He looked at 
us with a frightened, helpless look, and asked: 
"You won't hurt me, will you?" 
I assured him we would be just as careful 



Spottsylvania. 37 

as possible. He seemed surprised to be 
treated with kindness, having been taught, 
evidently, that the Yankee invader was a 
barbarian. Removed to the tent, I exam- 
ined his wound. A bullet had passed through 
the ankle joint, and the only remedy was 
amputation. He inquired how it was. It 
seemed hard to tell him that he must go 
through life maimed. 

"That is a bad foot; but the surgeons 
will do the best they can for it. You may 
lose it." Some time after he was removed, I 
suppose to have his foot amputated, and I 
saw him no more. 

The next move was to Spottsylvania. 
Grant had grappled with his enemy, intend- 
ing to hold on "all Summer." The same 
spirit seemed to animate his army, from Gen- 
eral Meade down to the latest recruit in the 
ranks. The lines of blue came out from the 
smoking underbrush of the Wilderness, their 
ranks torn and decimated, and closed in 
around the bristling batteries and rifle-pits of 
Spottsylvania with a relentless courage that 
was sublime. 

Here the tents were pitched in a little, 
open lot, a house to the right as you faced 



38 In the Ranks. 

the position where the righting was in prog- 
ress. The tents were not sufficient to contain 
the wounded, and they lay on the ground on 
the outside by thousands. Those long rows 
of suffering forms, gashed and mangled in 
every conceivable manner, told a dreadful tale 
of human wrath. That gallant division, the 
Reserves, had preserved their well-earned rep- 
utation for stubborn valor at a terrible cost. 
Their greatest loss was sustained in a single 
onset against the rebel position. The enemy 
was posted in strong rifle-pits, beyond a nar- 
row strip of swamp. Orders were given to 
charge these works. The division moved 
forward. They had never failed in such 
an undertaking. Their charge had always 
pierced the enemy's line. This had been 
their record during three years of warfare. 
But men can not accomplish impossibilities. 
Baffled by the swamp, cut by the merciless 
fire that blazed out from the pits, they are 
driven back, rally, re-form and charge the 
second and third time, and then retire to the 
position from which they had come out. 

The field-tents here were nearer the front 
than before. Bullets and an occasional shell 
whistled over us. My work was still the 



Billy Craig. 39 

same, caring for the wounded, assisting the 
surgeon, or occasionally binding up a wound 
myself. 

During the second day, while engaged at 
the farther end of the tent, I heard at the front 
a familiar voice. As soon as I was disengaged 
I went to the front end of the tent, eager to 
learn from whom the well-known voice pro- 
ceeded. There lay a large, noble-looking 
young man, severely wounded in the thigh. 
He was conversing quietly with a wounded 
comrade by his side. Voice and face were as 
familiar as if heard and seen but yesterday. 
Puzzled and deeply interested, I did not speak, 
but proceeded to bathe his wound. While 
thus engaged, his eyes fell upon my face. 
Looking at me intently a moment, his face 
brightened, and he exclaimed : 

"You are Rob M'Bride, aren't you?' 

"Yes; and you are Billy Craig," was the 
immediate reply. 

As soon as he pronounced my name, it all 
came to me in a moment. We had been 
school-mates at Courtney's School-house. He 
was then one of the "big boys," and I a lad 
of nine or ten. I had not seen him since. He 
was one of those large-hearted, royal souls, 



40 In The Ranks. 

that could find pleasure in little acts of kind- 
ness, that bound me to him very closely. He 
bore his sufferings with heroic fortitude. When 
the time came to remove the wounded, and they 
were being hurried away in ambulances and 
rough army wagons, I went to Dr. Lyon and 
told him of the case. He went with me to 
an ambulance and ordered room reserved in 
it for him. I then had him carried to it, 
made him as comfortable as possible, bade 
him good-bye and God speed, and saw him no 
more on earth. He died from his wound some 
time in June. 

May nth, Lewis Grossman, of Company 
C, was brought in, terribly wounded by a 
shell. One arm and leg were crushed, and 
he was otherwise bruised. I did not see him 
until after the arm and leg were amputated. 
He was a young man of great physical endur- 
ance, or he would never have rallied from the 
shock. He was as pale as a corpse when first 
brought into the tent, but rallied in a little 
while, and was able to take some refreshment. 
When left to himself his mind wandered, and 
he would talk as if he were engaged in the 
quiet pursuits of peace. Unless prevented, 
he would remove the bandages from the 



Lewis Crossman. 41 

stumps of his amputated limbs. When spoken 
to, however, he would refrain from this, and 
talk rationally of the present circumstances. 
Dr. Lyon finally told me to give my atten- 
tion entirely to him. This I did until he was 
sent away. He told me how his wound was 
received. He was in front, skirmishing. He 
was in the road in front of a rebel battery, 
and in the act of loading his gun. Perceiving 
they were about to fire, he still delayed a 
moment, thinking to get in another shot be- 
fore leaping to the shelter of a large tree that 
stood near. It was a costly delay. 

The shell came screaming toward him, 
burst, and dashed him stunned and mangled 
to the ground. As he concluded this narra- 
tive, he added, with the utmost seriousness : 
"But they have n't made much off me, after 
all. I 've peppered them in almost every bat- 
tle the Potomac army has fought since the 
war began." 

He got along finely, and there seemed 
every prospect of recovery. When some of 
the boys called on him at Washington, on 
their way home in June, he requested them 
to say nothing to his friends about the extent 
of his wounds. But from some cause — per- 



42 In the Ranks. 

haps gangrene — he died August 3d, and is 
buried in the National Cemetery at Arlington. 
Nearly opposite Lewis lay a young man of 
very fine face and attractive appearance. He 
was mortally wounded. Most of the time his 
sufferings were very great, but no earthly skill 
could bring any relief. As death drew on, 
his mind wandered. He was fighting his bat- 
tles over again. He was not the poor, crushed 
mortality that lay here. His spirit was over 
yonder, where the cannon's sullen roar and 
the awful din of musketry, the cheers of the 
struggling combatants, told of a deadly strife. 
Sometimes he was distressed and troubled, 
sometimes exultant. Anon his face would 
light up with the strange fire of battle, and he 
would raise his arm and cheer. Once he said 
quite distinctly: "Here is a chance for a 
brave man." Later he became calm, and 
quietly fell asleep, to wake no more on earth 
till the great day of God. 

" Soldier, sleep, thy warfare o'er, 
Sleep the sleep that knows no waking, 
Dream of battle-fields no more." 

One of the Bucktail Regiment lay on the 
ground in front of the tent, shot through the 
chest. He was, perhaps, twenty-five years of 



Dying. 43 

age, large and well-formed, his face stamped 
with the marks of intelligence. While en- 
gaged near him, I saw another of that band of 
heroes coming toward him with great strides, 
an expression of anguish on his face which 
I can not forget. He threw himself on his 
knees by the wounded man, kissed him, then 
covered his face with his hands, and his great 
manly form shook with convulsive sobbings. 
Tears trickled down the cheeks of the other. 
Not a word was spoken until, after a while, the 
storm of emotion had passed. Then they con- 
versed calmly for a while, and parted with the 
quiet dignity of brave men who say farewell 
while the shadow of death lies dark around them. 

A man was brought in shot through both 
thighs. I did not know his name, but had 
heard his voice among the worshipers in the 
church-tent at.Bristoe Station, and knew that 
he was a man of God. After a brief exam- 
ination, the surgeon announced that amputa- 
tion would be necessary. 

"Very well, doctor; get around to it as 
quick as you can. I suffer terribly." 

Another was shot in the thigh, the bone 
shattered to the hip. When told that the limb 
must be amputated he objected. 



44 In the Ranks. 

" But you will die if it is not done." 

"I can 't help that; it shall not be ampu- 
tated with my consent." 

Within twenty- four hours he was dead. 
Whether wise in his decision or not, he met 
the result without flinching or complaint. 

A boy with his arm torn off by a shell ex- 
pressed his only complaint in the words, ".I 
never can fight any more." 

One evening, worn out by constant labor 
and watching, I lay down in a vacant place 
in the tent, from which a dead soldier had 
been removed, to find rest for mind and body 
in sleep. As I lay there thinking of the 
dreadful scenes around me, of the wounded 
and dying here, the dead just over yonder, 
I began to wonder what would be the sensa- 
tions of a man shot in the brain. Suddenly 
there came a shock, as if the whole machinery 
of life had stopped at once. How long a 
time elapsed before consciousness was re- 
sumed I do not know ; the interval may have 
been momentary; but as a dim sense of being 
stole over me again, I was quite convinced 
that a stray shot had struck me in the head. 
Rousing myself, I deliberately felt my head, 
to learn the exact state of things. To my 



Onward. 45 

surprise and gratification, I found every thing 
in due order. I leave it to those who are 
skilled in the mysteries of the nervous system 
to explain the phenomenon ; but you must 
allow me to believe that I know something of 
what it is to be shot in the head. 

The time arrived, at length, when the field 
hospitals must be moved because of the 
changed position of the army. A heavy rain 
began on the nth, and continued for some 
days, making the roads almost impassable. 
The wounded that remained were removed as 
speedily and as mercifully as possible. Some 
had to be left behind. Nurses were detailed 
to remain with them. As night came on 
every thing was in readiness, and the rest of 
us were directed to take our departure without 
delay. Two of us started together after dark. 
We made our way through the mud and in- 
tense darkness about twenty rods, to the edge 
of a wood. We resolved to go no further, 
come what might. Doubling myself up at 
the root of an old stump, I was soon obliv- 
ious to both rain and danger. Just as day 
was breaking, I awoke, and arousing my com- 
panion, we hastened away. 



4.6 In the Ranks. 



Chapter V. 

THIS closed my experience in the hospital. 
I was so worn out by the constant strain 
which such labor made on body and mind, 
that rest was imperative. During all these 
days I could get no definite information of the 
fate of John Elliot. The wounded reported 
that he was missing, but whether among the 
dead or living they could not tell. It was 
difficult to drive away the thought of the 
painful possibilities that imagination would 
bring up. Had he been disabled that first 
day in the wilderness and perished in the 
flames of the burning woods? Had he been 
mortally wounded, and died alone in the thick 
underbrush which veiled so many tragic 
scenes? Had death come more swiftly and 
mercifully, or was he a prisoner and un- 
harmed? Such were the questions that 
might be solved by inquiry among the mem- 
bers of the company. 

After some delay I found the regiment by 
a little stream called the Ny. The spot on 



Lost. 47 

which they were camped, or rather resting 
under arms, was within beautiful shelling 
range of the rebel batteries, as I found out 
afterward to my great discomfort and dismay. 
Toward evening, Sergeant W. Coleman was 
taken quite sick, and at his request I started 
with him to find the hospital. After proceed- 
ing some distance, he became so ill that we 
could go no further, and some means of con- 
veyance must be found. A stretcher was 
procured, and two men to carry him. To 
these I confided my charge, and began to 
retrace my steps. It was now after dark, a 
clear, moonless night. Crossing the little 
stream at the point where I had left the regi- 
ment a few hours before, to my great disap- 
pointment not a man could be found. 

What to do was a puzzling question. The 
resolution was finally taken to spend a few 
hours, at least, in trying to find them. At 
first I started in a direction bearing toward 
the right, but soon met a column marching 
toward the left. Reasoning that if troops 
were being moved to the left, none would be 
moving at the same time toward the right, 
I fell in with this column, determined to see 
what the outcome would be. Soon the open 



48 In the Ranks. 

ground was crossed, and the column began to 
bear to the right of its line of march, through 
the woods. Presently I noticed that an unus- 
ual silence was observed. Not a word was 
spoken above a whisper, every noise and 
clatter incident to the march were carefully 
avoided. 

Growing weary at length, and reflecting 
that after all I might be going away from the 
regiment instead of toward it, I dropped out 
of the line and lay down against the root of 
a tree close to the road, to sleep till morning. 
Half sleeping and half waking I lay there, 
dreamily watching that army of shadows glid- 
ing stealthily by. Shadows they seemed as 
they moved hurriedly along under the gloom 
of the overhanging trees, as noiseless almost 
as an army of spirits from Homer's nether 
world. The mystery of this secret night 
march served to quicken imagination, and I 
could see this same column grimly marshal- 
ing in (i battle's magnificently stern array" in 
the dim light of the coming morning, ready 
to burst upon some exposed point of the ene- 
my's line. 

Opening my eyes a little later, the same 
ghostly procession was filing past, but in an 



Ghosts. 49 

opposite direction. This meant that, sooner 
or later, my rest must be disturbed, or I 
might be left in an exposed and dangerous 
position. Present comfort, however, being the 
stronger motive just then, prevailed, and I 
sank into unconsciousness again. From this 
I was aroused by some one shaking me by 
the shoulder and warning me in a whisper 
that I must wake up and come on. The 
muffled " tramp, tramp" had ceased, the rear 
of that shadowy army was vanishing in the 
darkness; one solitary figure waited, delaying 
a moment, to see if I was fully awake. Ris- 
ing, I followed. Reaching the open ground 
from which we had entered the woods, I 
found myself alone and bewildered. Proceed- 
iug some distance with rather a vague notion 
of direction, I determined to make a final 
halt till morning. All that was necessary to 
make myself comfortable was to sink down 
on the ground without removing any thing, 
my knapsack fitting conveniently under the 
back of my head, supporting head and shoul- 
der as if intended for the purpose. Thus be- 
stowing myself by the side of a rail fence, I 
was soon sleeping soundly. 

But my rest was destined not to be undis- 
4 



50 In the Ranks. 

turbed. Something awoke me. What ! Was 
this night given over to ghosts and spirits 
intangible ? Again the forms of men were 
gliding noiselessly about me. Above were 
the twinkling stars, around were busy men, 
and silence everywhere. With instinctive 
cautiousness I lay motionless, furtively noting 
the curious scene. A moment's careful atten- 
tion explained it in part. One by one the 
rails of the fence were taken up with the 
utmost caution and borne away. They were 
building breastworks somewhere. There was 
work to be done, I thought, and preferred to 
finish my much delayed sleep, if allowed to 
do so. I lay motionless, only sufficiently 
awake to dimly take in the situation. Twice 
men came and stooped over me with their 
faces close to mine, looked intently, and 
turned away in silence. Congratulating my- 
self on my good fortune, that I was going to 
sleep the night out while others worked, I 
gave myself again to repose. 

When I awoke the sun had got fairly 
started on his course, and was pouring his 
rays full into my face. The events of the pre- 
ceding night seemed like a dream ; but there 
was evidence about me that my visitants had 



Between the Lines. 51 

not been as ghostly as they seemed. The 
fence by which I had lain down had disap- 
peared, and I was alone in an open field. 
Utterly bewildered, I addressed myself to the 
somewhat difficult task of deciding what must 
be done. On either side of me could be seen 
what I knew to be earth-works, but not a liv- 
ing thing was visible. The field gave evidence 
of having been fought over, for the well-known 
debris of a battle were strewn around. At 
length my mind was made up to go to the 
rear, find the division hospital, and get in- 
formation. 

But where was rear? Where was front? 
Where was any thing? After meditating pro- 
foundly on these questions, I decided that my 
course lay in the direction of the earth-works 
on one side of the open ground. This was 
the "rear, " and these works had been aban- 
doned in the progress of advance. Proceeding 
leisurely in this direction, I had not advanced 
far until I was surprised by the boom of a 
cannon behind me. A shell screamed over 
my head, and exploded with a sharp ring 
against the earth-works a few hundred yards 
ahead of me. Looking back, I saw a Yankee 
officer standing on the earth-work, glass in 



52 In the Ranks. 

hand, watching the effects of the shot. This 
was a revelation. I was between the lines, and 
heading for the rebel works. That shot saved 
me a trip to a Confederate prison-pen. Hastily- 
retracing my steps, I lost no time in reaching 
our lines, expecting each moment that an ar- 
tillery battle would break out while I was be- 
tween the combatants. The position was per- 
haps a half-mile to the right of the spot where 
I had last seen the regiment. No infantry was 
visible, but no doubt there were troops con- 
cealed in the woods near by. The sharp 
ridges by which the open ground was broken 
were occupied by artillery, the men standing 
by their guns. 

The day was before me, and I was resolved 
to have a little more experience ; the more so 
as I could make my observations in compara- 
tive safety. Those guns frowning grimly over 
the earthern redoubts meant mischief. I 
would see an artillery fight ; my curiosity was 
soon amply gratified. Standing near a vacant 
redoubt, looking toward the rebel batteries, 
suddenly a white smoke burst forth, followed 
by the roar of cannon and the hissing shriek 
of shells, as the noisy missiles came tearing 
through the air toward us. After the first 



About Shells. 53 

discharge, the rebel fire was directed chiefly 
to the right of the earth-work behind which I 
had taken refuge, though shells kept striking 
and bursting around. My position, however, 
was favorable for a view of our own batteries, 
and for observing the effect of the enemy's 
fire. Sometimes the shells would strike the 
ground, sending the dirt many feet into the 
air, and go tearing across the field, touching 
the ground and bounding again at intervals. 
Others would strike the earth-works, or ex- 
plode in the air, and hurl their fragments far 
and near, whizzing and buzzing to the earth. 

This noisy combat lasted for some time, 
and ceased, — not because either of the com- 
batants was seriously damaged, as far as I 
could see, but because they were tired of it. 

This will be as appropriate a place as any 
to remark, that ''shelling" is usually quite 
harmless, except when the guns are served by 
skilled artillerists, and under favorable circum- 
stances. Unless the shell is exploded at the 
proper distance and altitude in front of a line, 
it is not likely to do any injury. A cannon- 
ade which, to the uninitiated, would seem 
sufficient to destroy every thing before it, will 
be faced with the utmost equanimity by veteran 



54 In the Ranks. 

troops, if the artillerist have the range too 
"long." It is always very annoying, how- 
ever, as there is no telling when a shell may 
prove a little "short," and distribute its frag- 
ments for rods along the line. The men are 
usually ordered to lie down, unless directly 
engaged. The shell cleaves the air with a 
frightful sound, that is but faintly described 
by the word " shriek." Few men can refrain 
from "dodging," as the dangerous missile 
comes over with its unearthly sound. The 
writer has frequently tried it, but can remem- 
ber no instance of marked success, except 
while engaged, or otherwise employed. Per- 
haps the most disagreeable sound of all, is 
when the guns are charged with grape and 
cannister, and send their destructive contents 
through the air with a grinding, groaning, 
gnashing sound, that chills the blood of the 
listener. This may partly result from associa- 
tion, as such a charge is seldom used except 
at close range, on a charging line. Then, if 
directed by cool, determined men, the effect 
is terrible. Those who have once heard this 
sound can never forget it. It requires but lit- 
tle imagination to fancy that the fiend which 
was sending forth such loud defiance just now, 



Grape. 5 5 

has grappled with his adversary and is hissing 
out his horrid rage in the midst of Titanic 
smugglings. A little experience will enable 
you to determine from the sound what a gun 
is firing; shot, shell, or grape. The artillery- 
men usually have little fear of shell, but dread 
a volley from infantry. With the infantry the 
case is reversed. Generally the men preferred 
the branch of service to which they were ac- 
customed. Each did not envy the other. 

The cavalryman rode all day ; but at night 
he had to care for both himself and horse. 
The infantryman had nothing to care for but 
himself. He would make his coffee, and sleep 
all night, while the cavalryman must scout, or 
picket front or flank. Sometimes the infantry 
must spend a part of the night in throwing up 
breastworks, or making a night march; but 
usually he considers himself more certain of 
rest and comfort than his fellow-soldiers of the 
mounted force. 



56 Lost. 



Chapter VL 

I NOW continued my search for informa- 
tion as to the whereabouts of the regi- 
ment. I had almost reached the little flat by 
the Ny, at the point where I had last seen 
my comrades the evening before, when, to my 
astonishment, the roar of cannon broke forth 
again, and the shells came hissing over my 
head and bursting all around me. There was 
not even a stump or stone for shelter from 
the pelting storm of iron, and in the woods 
just over the stream, the trees were being 
torn and rent asunder as if by thunderbolts. 
This was more of a joke than I had bargained 
for. Reflecting a moment, I concluded to 
take my chances among the trees. A slender 
foot-log over the stream afforded means of 
crossing. When about the middle of the log 
a shell howled close to my head and dashed 
through a tree with a fearful crash. Nothing 
deterred, I sat down at the root of a sturdy 
oak which would shelter me from fragments, 
at least, and waited for something to "turn 
up." The rebels evidently thought that troops 



Found. 57 

were concealed in the woods, and were deter- 
mined to make it hot for them. They made 
it lively for me ; but unless that afforded them 
some satisfaction, they might have saved their 
ammunition. 

Later I learned that the Reserves had 
moved to the left. Passing along in that di- 
rection, I came to a hill on which a battery 
was planted. The men were standing by 
their guns, ready for action. Close behind 
these, on the face of the hill were the cais- 
sons, and back of these, men holding the 
horses, the men themselves sheltered in holes 
which they had dug in the hillside. Things 
looked decidedly breezy about that hill. My 
curiosity to witness an artillery fight had been 
fully gratified some time before; so I passed 
on without delay, and soon found the object 
of my search some distance further to the left. 

Late in the afternoon of the 17th an 
orderly galloped to headquarters, the bugle 
sounded "fall in," and we were moving to- 
ward the right at a rapid pace. Heavy firing 
could be heard in the direction of our right 
flank, and we were hurrying toward the 
scene of action, to strengthen the threatened 
point. We arrived about dark. The fighting 



58 In the Ranks. 

had almost ceased, and the enemy were hand- 
somely repulsed. The attack had been made 
on a body of inexperienced troops, mostly 
heavy artillery, who were marching from Fred- 
ericksburg to join the Army of the Potomac. 
They were well-drilled and disciplined, and 
made a gallant and successful fight, though 
with heavy loss. In their first fight they had 
faced Lee's best veterans, and defeated them. 
The old soldiers were inclined to regard it as 
rather a joke — the lively manner in which the 
rebs welcomed them to the front. This dis- 
position to see a bright, a laughable side to 
every thing, may be set down as one of the 
peculiarities of the Yankee soldier. In vic- 
tory or defeat, success or disaster, ease or 
hardship, some one of a group of soldiers 
could find something from which to extract a 
jest or on which to found a pun. 

The next morning I went out over the 
field. Details of men were engaged in bury- 
ing their fallen comrades. The dead were 
collected in groups, a trench sufficiently wide 
and deep was dug, and they were laid side by 
side as decently as possible, and covered with 
two or three feet of earth. When it could 
be done, the graves were marked. I have 



The Dead. 59 

seen this done by our men for the rebel dead, 
when there was time and leisure for such care. 

Under an apple tree lay a rebel who had 
been shot in the forehead, a little above the 
center. He must have been shot before sun- 
set of the previous day. It was about noon 
when I saw him, and strange to say, he was 
still alive. He was unconscious, and prob- 
ably had been from the moment he was 
struck. 

In a negro cabin lay a young rebel soldier, 
a fair-faced, handsome boy, shot through the 
right lung. I inquired after his wants, and 
made him as comfortable as might be. He 
said he had not suffered for want of care. 
Soldiers had been in frequently during the 
day, and all had been very kind. He spoke 
of this with great satisfaction. I notified Dr. 
Lyon of the case, and he was taken care of. 

The next day we advanced some distance 
toward the enemy. Skirmishers were thrown 
forward, but no serious fighting took place. 
As the skirmishers were going out, Chaplain 
Delo dryly inquired if he might not accom- 
pany them, 'giving as his reason that he 
would like to get Captain Coder's horse killed 
if it could be done conveniently. He had 



6o In the Ranks. 

charge of a horse belonging to the captain, 
who had displeased him about something in 
connection with the horse. There was no 
opportunity of gratifying the worthy chap- 
lain's wishes. 

Again the army was in motion, leaving 
behind now as useless what before had been 
fought for so tenaciously. As we moved 
away, the Eleventh was in the rear, nothing 
between us and the enemy, but some cav- 
alry, to cover the rear of the column, as the 
army moved off to strike Lee from a new 
position. We were passing over a wide, open 
piece of country. The rebel cavalry and our 
own had become hotly engaged, and a spir- 
ited fight was in progress clear across the 
open ground behind us. 

About this time Daniel Graham became 
quite ill, and was compelled to fall out of the 
ranks. I remained with him to help him 
along. The undertaking proved to be rather 
a serious one. He would struggle bravely on 
for a while, and then sit down panting and 
exhausted. I carried his gun and knapsack, 
and finally took him by the arm to keep 
him up. 

Meantime the battle going on behind us 



In Trouble. 6i 

drew nearer and nearer, and the bullets were 
whistling around us with uncomfortable fre- 
quency. At last Daniel became utterly dis- 
couraged ; and, as he dropped upon the 
ground to rest at one of his frequent halts, 
he declared it was no use, he could go no 
further. He urged me to leave him, and make 
my escape. 

1 ' There 's no use of talking that way. 
After you rest a few minutes, we '11 try it 
again." 

"But I'm clear "used up, and there's no 
use of both of us being prisoners." 

1 * We 're not prisoners yet by a good deal. 
We are going to come out all right. You 
are worth two dead men yet." 

But notwithstanding my brave words, I 
Avas almost of his opinion, though not con- 
vinced that the time had come to give up all 
hope. It was my duty to stay with him as 
long as there was any prospect of getting 
him off. 

Our cavalry was now nearly up to where 
we were, and I announced that he must come 
along. Helping him to his feet, we started. 
Courage and strength now seemed to revive. 
We made good progress, and were soon out 



62 In the Ranks. 

of danger. In the course of an hour or two 
he was able to take his gun again, and in the 
evening we came up with the regiment. 

In trying to recall the scenes of this period, 
there are some that seem like the fragments 
of a half-forgotten dream, distinct in them- 
selves, but without any definite connection as 
to time or place. They are but pictures, some 
of them becoming faded and indistinct; others 
bright and fresh, as if they had come from the 
painter's hand but yesterday. I see a long 
column of weary soldiers, winding along over 
hill and valley, in the night, gliding past a 
stately mansion, with beautiful grounds and 
shaded walks, and every-where the freshness 
and fragrance of Spring. Again I see a line 
of battle stretching out across an open field, 
the men resting lazily in their ranks. A little 
to the left, near some shade trees, stands a 
battery, ready for action, the guns pointing 
toward some unseen enemy beyond. It is 
noon, and the sunlight is pouring down upon 
the scene, bright and clear. 

May 23d we came to the North Ann. We 
halted in open ground, before we reached the 
river. Fighting was in progress at the front, 
where the rebels were disputing the passage 



Over the River. 63 

of the river. While we waited here, a bat- 
tery came thundering past at full speed, and 
soon the roar of their guns told that they had 
found something to do. 

While this was in progress, we were or- 
dered to move. The column was headed, 
first to the rear, then toward our right. By 
a rapid march we reached a ford, higher up 
the river. Without delay we waded right 
through. The water was swift, and three or 
four feet deep in places. The bottom of the 
river was stony, and the stones were slip- 
pery. This, with the swiftness of the stream, 
made the footing of the most active rather 
precarious. A German, named Moreland, a 
teacher by profession, and a man of fine qual- 
ities, had joined the company but a little while 
before. He was not very active at best, and 
at this time had very sore feet. As we were 
hurrying across, suddenly a wonderful splash- 
ing and floundering were heard toward the 
rear of the company, and Moreland's feet 
were discovered twinkling above the surface 
of the water, while with his head he seemed 
to be making a critical examination of the 
bottom of the stream. At last he regained 
his footing, purring and blowing like a por- 



64 In The Ranks. 

poise, amid the cheers and horse-laughs of 
his comrades. 

Once across, no time was to be lost. We 
had stolen a march on the rebels, and if we 
would use our advantage we must be about 
it. The movement was not long unknown to 
the enemy. As fast as the troops reached 
the high ground on the other side, they formed 
line of battle, keeping the left flank covered 
by the river, and facing down stream. As 
the remaining troops crossed, they formed on 
the right, the line as it formed advancing 
downward and outward from the river, in a 
curve. 

The Eleventh was not far from the left. 
They moved down the stream some distance, 
and halted in the midst of a beautiful farm. 
Before them was a valley, across which the 
Bucktails were advancing as skirmishers, and 
beyond this the ground rose again, and curved 
off toward woods in the distance. Scarcely 
had our line reached this point, when the en- 
emy "came down like the wolf on the fold." 
Judging from the promptness and vigor with 
which they assailed us, they evidently counted 
on making our enterprise another Ball's Bluff 
affair. 



Orthodox Baptism. 6$ 

As the Bucktails advanced, their rapid fir- 
ing warned us that they had discovered the 
advance of the enemy. Dust was seen rising 
on the high ground beyond, and horses were 
dimly seen. We judged that batteries were 
coming into position. We were not long in 
doubt. Suddenly a perfect volley of artillery 
burst forth. The air seemed filled with the 
shrieking shells and whizzing fragments. The 
men could do no more than lie down and let 
the storm rage. For some time we had not 
a single gun in position to reply, and the 
rebels poured in their fire without hindrance. 
Soldiers who had been through all the battles 
of the Potomac army, affirmed that they never 
experienced such a noisy onset, except at Get- 
tysburg. As quickly as possible our batteries 
came into position, on both sides of the river. 
Now the tumult was doubled. The earth 
seemed to shake. When our artillery opened 
in reply, the rebels turned their attention in 
that direction; but on account of the awk- 
wardness of their gunners, we were annoyed 
almost as much as when under their direct fire. 
On the right there was severe infantry fighting. 
Of this we could hear little, on account of the 
terrible cannonading going on around us. The 
5 



66 In the Ranks. 

losses of the regiment were slight, owing to 
the fact that the rebels overshot us. A few 
were wounded, but I think none were killed. 
The loss of the corps was about 350. The 
rebel loss was reported at 1,000, including 
General Brown, who was in command. 

May was now drawing to a close, and with 
it would close the history of the Pennsylvania 
Reserves. The 30th found us in the vicinity 
of Bethsaida Church. We were moving on 
with those stops and starts which indicate 
that the head of the column has met with 
some obstruction. Skirmishing was going on 
in front, and from time to time the boom of 
cannon came rolling up from the left. We 
were moving along a road which led through 
open farm country, and through a strip of 
woods, beyond which skirmishing was heard. 
During one of the frequent halts, while the 
men were resting, some standing, others sitting 
or reclining at ease, a rifle ball came whistling 
through the air, and struck with a sharp snap 
in the rail-pile on which myself and others 
were sitting. It struck between Jim Shaffer 
and myself. We both naturally squirmed a 
little at the unpleasant nearness of the ma- 
licious little messenger. The affair called 



Defeat. 67 

forth laughter and jocular exclamations from 
those around: "How are you Johnnie!" 
"Hit 'em again!" "Go in!" 

The incident would not have caused any 
special notice, had it not been so unexpected, 
on account of our distance from the scene of 
action. 

Forward now through the woods, out upon 
the open ground beyond, where the division is 
forming for its last battle. Their left now rests 
not far from where their right was when they 
fought at Gaines' Mill, nearly two years be- 
fore. They advance some distance. "Some 
one has blundered." They have no support 
on either wing. They are flanked, and, after 
a brief struggle, are driven back. Some noble 
men were lost here. Parks, of Company D, 
is mortally wounded ; Daniel Graham is made 
prisoner. In the retreat, two men carry back 
John Stanley, wounded in the arm and side. 
At the wood they rally. A fence is torn 
down, and with this and whatever is near- 
est at hand a breastwork is hastily impro- 
vised. A few of the Bucktails have rallied 
on their right, and thrown up a similar de- 
fense of logs, rails, any thing that can stop a 
bullet. Here the line seems to terminate: 






68 In the Ranks. 

but just beyond and a little back, is a brass 
battery, concealed by bushes, every gun 
charged with grape and canister. A house 
stands close behind the line, in a recess of the 
woods. 

Now the enemy is seen advancing. Line 
after line comes swinging out. Shells come 
screaming over. One explodes in front of 
Company D. Its fragments sever the flag- 
staff close to Jim Shaffer's head, rip open 
Mike Coleman's cap, tear off Culp's arm near 
the shoulder. Another bursts in the house, 
and sets it on fire. A woman, bearing a 
baby in one arm and leading by the hand a 
little child, comes out of the house, still un- 
harmed. Frightened and bewildered, she is 
passing along, the rear of the line instead of 
hastening away from it. A kind-hearted sol- 
dier directs her toward a place of safety. But 
now the rebel lines are within rifle range. 
Volley after volley is poured into them, and 
their ranks melt before the terrible fire. In 
our front they falter; but toward the right 
they see a chance for victory. They will 
swing around our flank, and crush us as they 
did but an hour before. With exultant yells, 
their left comes sweeping on, wheeling to en- 



Victory. 69 

velop our right. But now there bursts from 
the underbrush a blast as if from the pit, 
crashing, tearing, grinding, enfilading their 
lines, leaving in its track a swath of dead and 
dying. This is decisive, and the battle is won. 

Over a hundred dead were counted in front 
of the Eleventh and the few Bucktails on their 
right. One man was struck with a charge of 
grape, or by a bursting shell, and his body from 
the knees to the neck was crushed and torn 
into an indistinguishable mass. 

John Stanley, who was wounded in this ac- 
tion, was a brave, noble boy. Looking along 
the company line, with its veterans of so 
many battles, the remnant of a hundred as 
brave men as ever followed a battle flag, you 
would not have guessed that this boyish face 
could be the calmest in the hour of trial. 
During that month of battles, he was always 
in his place, without bravado, but with un- 
flinching courage, doing his duty. I saw him 
at the woods, as they were taking him from 
the field. His pale face was as calm as ever. 
He never returned to us, nor did I learn the 
result of his wounds. 

The next morning the Reserves were with- 
drawn from the front. Their term of service 



yo In the Ranks. 

had expired. The veterans and recruits were 
reorganized, forming the One Hundred and 
Ninetieth and One Hundred and Ninety-first 
Pennsylvania Volunteer Infantry. The others 
started on their homeward march. 

Of Company D, fourteen men returned — 
five non-commissioned officers and nine pri- 
vates. Eleven had re enlisted. Thirty-five 
were dead, of whom twenty-three had been 
killed in battle or mortally wounded ; and six 
were prisoners in the hands of the enemy, of 
whom two died. 

Of the eleven veterans, only seven were 
present, the others being wounded or prison- 
ers. By the close of the war, forty of the 
original one hundred and one had died in the 
service. During the first three years, twenty- 
four were discharged for wounds or sickness. 
Such is the record of these heroic men. 
Mingled feelings of joy and sadness were in 
the hearts of all, as good-byes were spoken, 
and they marched away. The war-worn vet- 
erans, who now turned their footsteps home- 
ward, and those who stood there, watching 
their going that day, knew too well how cer- 
tainly these "good-byes" might be " fare- 
wells." I think I saw tears in a certain brave 



Good-bye. 71 

colonel's eyes ; and perhaps strong hands were 
clasped with a little more than usual fervor, 
as friend looked into the face of friend ; but 
there was no M scene." These men were too 
much in earnest for that. 



72 In the Ranks. 



Chapter VI L 

THEN came reorganization. It seemed like 
a " general breaking up." It was. In- 
stead of the mere handful of men that stood 
about the torn and tattered colors of the old 
regiment but yesterday, nearly a thousand 
were grouped together in the new organization. 
They might all be considered veterans. Some 
had been in service since the beginning of 
the war; all had, at least, the experience of 
the present campaign. It was generally felt 
that the new regiment had in it some elements 
of success not to be found in one brought into 
existence under ordinary circumstances. The 
officers of both regiments were tried men, 
who had the confidence of all. Most of them 
had risen from the ranks, and had received 
promotion, step by step, with the approval of 
their comrades. Sergeant William Coleman, 
of Company D, was made first-lieutenant of 
Company I ; and Lieutenant R. Birkman, 
of Company E, was promoted to captain of 
Company A, of the One Hundred and Nine- 



The New. 73 

tieth. These both served faithfully until the 
close of the war. Lieutenant Hayden, of 
Company — , of the Eleventh, was transferred 
to the One Hundred and Ninety-first, and lost 
a leg at Appomattox Court-house, the morn- 
ing of Lee's surrender. 

With organization still incomplete, these 
two regiments were pushed forward to the 
front, and had a share in the terrible fighting 
at Cold Harbor. As soon as possible, how- 
ever, the organization was completed, and the 
two companion regiments became the Third 
Brigade, Third Division, Fifth Army Corps. 
William R. Hartshorn was commissioned col- 
onel of the One Hundred and Ninetieth, and 
Joseph B. Pattee lieutenant-colonel. The lat- 
ter, a brave and capable officer, commanded 
the regiment during its entire history, except 
when absent, wounded, as Colonel Hartshorn 
was absent, for some cause, most of the time. 
I was assigned to Company C. Neri B. Kin- 
sey was captain. Lieutenant Moses W. Lu- 
core was in command until some time after 
July, when Captain Kinsey returned. He 
was severely wounded, in October, and dis- 
charged the following March, on account of 
his wounds. The regiment adopted the buck- 



74 In the Ranks. 

tail, in honor of the old " Bucktails," who 
were more largely represented in the One 
Hundred and Ninetieth than any other regi- 
ment. 

In the afternoon of June 1 2th, we received 
marching orders, and soon tents were struck, 
and we were on our way, none knew whither. 
At this time we were short of provisions. I 
had a very small quantity of coffee, but noth- 
ing else, except fresh meat, which had just 
been issued. When orders came to strike 
tents for the march, I was engaged in coolo 
iug a slice of fresh beef, by holding it to the 
fire, spitted on a sharp stick. With an appe- 
tite sharpened by a more than orthodox fast, 
I was watching the operation most devoutly; 
and the savory odor which rose from the sput- 
tering morsel awakened anticipations which 
only a ferociously hungry man can imagine. 
But I was doomed to illustrate the words of 
the Scottish bard : 

" The best laid plans of mice or men 
Gang aft aglee." 

With my half-cooked meat in my hand, I 

swung on my knapsack, and we marched away. 

The march continued, without intermission, 

during the night, except now and then a 



Chickahominy. 75 

brief halt for rest. Towards morning we 
crossed the Chickahominy, at Long's Bridge. 
Here we halted for rest and breakfast. My 
entire commissary outfit consisted of about 
one teaspoonful of coffee. We had halted for 
breakfast, and might as well go through with 
the programme. I went to the river and pro- 
cured about a pint of liquid from that famous 
stream, and boiled the coffee with due cir- 
cumspection, and drank the product. 

The final member of the above sentence is 
not inserted to inform the reader that we did 
not eat the "product; but, in explanation, 
when we . thought of that Chickahominy 
water, the "old man " stirred mightily within 
us, and we greatly desired to say that it was 
good, knowing well with what unction every 
unfortunate that ever tasted it, would say, "O, 
what a lie !" We would like also to insert a 
few thoughts about G. Washington, who 
could not tell a lie, but we forbear. We 
drank that coffee as a war measure. 

Our course was then toward the right, a 
short distance along the river, soon bearing 
away from it toward Richmond. During the 
forenoon we reached White Oak Swamp, 
where the enemy was encountered in strong 



y6 In the Ranks. 

force. We moved out past some timber to 
where the cavalry were skirmishing with rebel 
troops posted in the woods beyond. Part of 
the regiment deployed as skirmishers and 
advanced to where the cavalry were fighting 
and joined in the fray. The rest remained in 
their rear as support. We lay down in a 
slight depression of the ground about four 
rods behind the skirmishers. As we were 
getting into position a few were wounded ; 
but after arrangements were completed, we 
lay in comparative safety. About three hun- 
dred or more yards to the left, on a little 
knoll, two guns were in position. Except 
these, which seemed unsupported, I could see 
no other force. Where the other troops were 
or how posted, I have not been able to make 
out. 

The day was warm, and after our night 
march, the men were fatigued and sleepy. 
Before long many of them were sleeping 
soundly, unmindful of the bullets that were 
whistling over. I do not know how long we 
lay thus. There is a peculiar satisfaction in 
sleeping under circumstances of danger. You 
are no more exposed than when awake, and 
you don't have to do the thinking. Sud- 



Battle. yy 

denly I awoke to a consciousness that some- 
thing had " broken loose." A volley of 
musketry was poured into us from the rising 
ground in front of our skirmishers, and the 
bullets were hissing close above us. I lay 
still a moment as they passed over, and then 
sprang to my feet. The skirmishers were 
giving way, still facing the rebel line of battle 
that was charging forward. On the left, our 
guns were belching forth grape and canister 
into the rebel infantry, that came sweeping on 
like ocean waves. I think these guns were 
lost. The last I saw of them the rebel troops 
seemed to roll right over them. We were 
driven back to the woods. Here we checked 
their advance, and held the ground till night. 
A part of the Fifth Corps and one division 
of cavalry had been thrown up in this direc- 
tion to make a diversion, and also to cover 
the flank of Grant's army while it crossed the 
Peninsula to the James River, and placed it- 
self before Petersburg. Hence there was not 
much object in fighting except to hold our 
position for a sufficient length of time. In 
the evening a heavy force of the enemy was 
reported moving toward our left. For this 
reason, or in carrying out the original pro- 



78 In the Ranks. 

gramme, we marched in the same direction, 
starting just after dark. As we fell back in 
the afternoon, I found a haversack contain- 
ing some hard-tack. This our mess divided. 
We did not fail to commiserate the unlucky 
chap whose loss was our gain. This was a very 
unsatisfactory fight. It always seemed to me 
like a scrub race. The rebels plunged in as 
if they thought it was a 2.20 affair, at the 
least. The march continued all night. About 
two in the morning I concluded that the 
thing had gone on about long enough, and, 
without any ceremony, made my bed beside 
a stump in a little opening in a strip of woods 
through which we were passing. It was after 
sunrise when I awoke. Breakfast was not an 
elaborate affair, and was quickly dispatched. 
It consisted of the vivid recollection of the 
two delicious hard-tacks which I had eaten the 
day before. It was light diet, but the best 
that could be afforded. I found that the col- 
umn, after keeping the road right on for some 
time, had about faced and retraced their steps 
to a point opposite where I had slept. A road 
here led to the left of our original line of 
march. This they followed a couple of miles 
and camped. I found them without trouble. 



Fancies. 79 

Here we waited, with nothing to eat, till the 
evening of the 15th, This is the only time I 
ever felt the pangs of extreme hunger. Dur- 
ing three days and nights of almost constant 
marching and fighting, I had eaten one ration 
of fresh beef and two crackers. It seemed as 
if I was all stomach, and each several cubic 
inch of that stomach clamoring incessantly 
for "grub." 

The boys amused themselves laying out 
an imaginary bill of fare. The merits of 
sundry inviting dishes were zealously dis- 
cussed. Roast turkey was eloquently extolled 
by one ; another set forth the attractions of a 
table to which forest, mountain-stream, or 
river had contributed delights. Sometimes 
the grotesque imagination of some wild fellow 
would conjure up a feast so full of horror that 
a famished cannibal might well protest. In 
striking contrast with this was the gentle 
pathos of word and manner as some boy told 
of dinner at the old farm-house among the 
hills, where mother poured out the fragrant 
coffee, rich with honest cream. 

Note. — Some additional facts have been learned 
regarding this affair. The One Hundred and Ninety- 
first was on our left, beyond the battery. The attack 



80 In the Ranks. 

was made about four in the afternoon. The One Hun- 
dred and Ninety-first had fallen back, and Colonel 
Pattee had received orders to withdraw. Deeming it 
hazardous to retire across open ground under such a 
fire, he rallied the skirmishers on the reserve, and met 
the charge of the enemy there. In a few minutes the 
Colonel's horse was shot dead under him. After a 
sharp fight the rebels broke, and we retreated to the 
woods before they could rally. The battery was not 
captured. A failure to hold our position here would 
have compelled a general battle, and delayed the 
flank movement to the James. 



Heroes. 



Chapter VIII. 

/^\N the 1 6th we marched to the James 
V-/ River. I do not know at what point. 
The rest of the corps, together with the Sec- 
ond, Sixth, and Ninth, had crossed at Wil- 
cox's Landing. I think we must have reached 
the river lower down. We were crowded on 
board transports. Judging from the time we 
were on board, we must have been carried a 
considerable distance up the river. We landed 
on the south side. Here we rested awhile. I 
went down to the river to bathe and to wash a 
shirt. Hundreds of soldiers were in the water, 
plunging, splashing, diving, enjoying them- 
selves like schoolboys. After sharing in the 
sport to my heart's content, I washed my 
shirt. The process was simple enough. The 
garment was well soaped, then held on a 
large stone and pounded with a club or any 
thing convenient. A final washing out com- 
pleted the operation. This is the usual modus 
operandi during a campaign. When I have 
described this process in these latter days, 



82 In the Ranks. 

some of my good friends have manifested an 
unreasonable and unnecessary skepticism as 
to the real and ultimate object of the pound- 
ing. But I solemnly affirm that the purpose 
is to expel the dirt from the garment. 

There is a little animal. Every soldier 
knows him. Noah Webster, LL.D., knew 
him. Noah is good authority. He derives 
his name from the Gothic verb liiisan, to 
devour. 

The noble Roman knew him. He called 
him pediculns. He is truly democratic in his 
instincts and disposition. 




HE IS A COPPERHEAD. 

He loves a rebel. But a copperhead loves 
a fat army contract. So does he. On this 
line he is cosmopolitan. He has some splen- 
did business qualifications. He is modest, 
retiring, persistent, insinuating. He comes 
to stay. He will stay if you let him. He 



Shirt-washing. 83 

sticketh closer than a brother. If you do n't 
want him you must skirmish for him. You 
can not argue him out of it. 

I once knew a warrior that cultivated him 
contrary to army regulations. We protested. 
They were firm friends, like David and Jona- 
than. 

One day stern Law, embodied in a corpo- 
ral and a file of men with glistening bayonets, 
took that man down to the running brook, 
and, regardless of the frosty air and chilly 
temperature, with a scrubbing broom they 
cleansed and variously purified him, furnished 
him a new outfit of regulation clothing, and 
brought him back as bright and rosy as need 
be. He made some remarks. They were 
comprehensive, but not to edification, and we 
will not reproduce them. If that veteran still 
breathes the vital air, he voted for Hancock 
last Fall. 

This seems like a digression, but it is sug- 
gested by the facts of the case. As before 
remarked, I washed that shirt. When I be- 
gan it was only an ordinary shirt. When I 
got through it was a most extraordinary gar- 
ment. There were "millions in it." I skir- 
mished, and washed again. The result was 



84 In the Ranks. 

astonishing. I thought of Moses, Aaron, and 
Egypt, and wondered why Pharaoh did not 
let the people go. It was a moving sight. 
It may be there yet, or it may have followed 
the army. I do not know. I retired from 
the scene sadder, but wiser. 

During the forenoon the march to Peters- 
burg began. The day was very warm, and 
the dust which rose as the column pressed on 
rendered the hot air stifling. The men., suf- 
fered greatly from thirst. I do not remember 
any march more trying in this respect. Late 
in the afternoon we halted to rest. There 
was a strip of rough, broken ground on the 
right, a kind of ravine, about half a mile 
away. I went over there in search of water. 
Not a drop could be found. Returning to 
the column, I learned that there was water 
some distance to the left. Here was a beau- 
tiful spring of clear, cold water flowing in 
abundance. My intention was to drink very 
moderately ; but I forgot all about this when 
I raised my quart cup, brimming full of the 
delicious beverage, to my lips. Of course I 
paid the penalty of my imprudence, and be- 
fore dark was so ill that I was compelled to 
leave the ranks. I kept up with the column 



Petersburg. 85 

until after dark, but finally gave up all hopes 
of keeping with them, and camped till morn- 
ing. The regiment, meantime, had reached 
the vicinity of Petersburg, and during the 
severe fighting there, had suffered some loss. 
Lieutenant-colonel Pattee was dangerously 
wounded. Lieutenant Steel, of Company A, 
received a terrible wound in the face. Abe 
Eshelman, formerly of the Eleventh, was mor- 
tally wounded, and died a few days later at 
City Point. The regiment was on a sandy 
ridge in front of woods, facing the rebel works, 
at a point nearly where the Norfolk Railroad 
passed through their lines. Behind them, 
in such a position as to fire almost over 
them, was a battery of rifled guns, which kept 
up a fire of shells upon the rebel works at 
intervals day and night. The rebel batteries 
responded at intervals of but a few minutes. 
This position was also under a continual fire 
from rebel sharpshooters, their balls reaching 
as far as the woods beyond with fatal effect. 
The second day we were here, June 18th, 
William Rutter was mortally wounded. He 
had picked up a piece of corn-cake in the 
field back of the works. Some jesting remark 
was made about the cake and the rebel that 



86 In the Ranks. 

made it, when he said he would go out and 
get some more. He was sitting in the pit 
beside me. He rose, still laughing, to carry- 
out his purpose ; but as his head and shoul- 
ders were exposed above the pit, there was a 
sharp "crash," and he grasped his left shoul- 
der with his right hand and uttered a smoth- 
ered exclamation of pain. A large rifle ball 
had penetrated and crushed the shoulder joint. 
He was taken back at once, and the arm am- 
putated. It was reported that he did not sur- 
vive the operation ; but I have since learned 
that he lived till the 15th of July. We lost 
a number of men in this way and on the 
picket line. 

The pickets were changed during the night, 
usually between nine and ten o'clock. This 
was the occasion for a lively time down on 
the line, in which the artillery usually joined. 
Sometimes this picket firing, with its accom- 
paniment of booming cannon and screaming 
shells, would rise almost to the dignity of a 
night battle. In front, from the picket pits, 
rifles blazed and flashed with their crackling 
roar ; and farther back, the great guns belched 
forth their lurid flames, casting a momentary 
glare over the weird scene. The gunners 



Mortar. 87 

would range their guns before dark, so as to 
give the rebels a good one when the time 
should arrive. Every device was resorted to 
that would make this night-firing effective 
and annoying to the enemy. 

Not long after the siege began, and while 
we were yet at this point of the line, we got 
a mortar-battery — two guns — into position. 
One clear, calm evening, the Yankees pro- 
ceeded to try a little of this new-fangled 
music on our friends across the lines. The 
mortars were planted some distance to the 
right, and in such a position that we had a 
fine chance for observation. The line had 
been unusually quiet, as if the beauty of the 
tranquil sunset hour had subdued for a season 
the fierce spirit of war in the hearts of men. 
The sun's last ray had faded from hill-top and 
tree, and twilight was settling down upon the 
scene, when we heard on our right a strange, 
grumbling, muffled roar; and with a rushing 
sound, we saw what seemed two lighted tapers 
mounting upward, describing a curve through 
the air, and descending upon the rebel works, 
followed by two sharp, ringing explosions. 
There was a moment's pause, and then ' ' boo- 
00m," and again two curves of light were 






88 In the Ranks. 

marked along the dark sky, and the great 
shells descended upon the rebel works, ex- 
ploding with a terrific crash. Still no reply 
from the rebel guns. Again the mortars 
boom out as before; but now, as if by a 
preconcerted signal, the batteries for about a 
mile along the rebel line cut loose at once,' 
a perfect volley of cannon, all centered on the 
one point, around which the shells burst and 
flashed like a thousand thunderbolts. Not a 
cannon replied from our lines ; only at inter- 
vals, for a while, would growl out that ' ' boo- 
oom," and above the flash of bursting shells 
and flaming cannon would rise those two lit- 
tle points of light, curving slowly upward and 
then down, with a seeming deliberation that 
contrasted oddly with the whirl and bustle be- 
low. This continued a few minutes, and the 
" boo-oom " ceased. The little mortar-battery 
was "knocked out of time." Then there 
arose along our line a great "ha-ha" — an 
army laughing. Such was the spirit in which 
the men had watched this unequal combat. 
But the laugh quickly changed to a cheer, and 
a hundred cannon roared out their savage thun- 
der from either line. Gradually the noise of strife 
died away, and an hour later the army slept. 



Rifle-pits. 89 

As before noted, our rifle-pits extended 
along a sandy ridge, the ground open in front, 
sloping downward to the railroad. On our 
right the ground was somewhat rough and 
broken ; but immediately in front, at the rail- 
road, the ground rose abruptly for several feet, 
and then sloped gradually upward toward the 
rebel works. Toward the left of this point, 
the abrupt rise disappeared ; but in general, 
the rebel works crowned elevated ground be- 
yond, and the entrenched picket-lines of the 
two armies were in the open ground between 
the railroad and the rebel entrenchments. On 
the right, as you would go down from our 
trenches to the road, a kind of ravine ex- 
tended toward the rebel works, and was com- 
manded by their rifles. A large and well- 
manned picket-pit was established at its head, 
from which they sent their bullets hissing 
down almost without hindrance. 

On the afternoon of June 19th, I think it 
was, word came in from our picket-line that 
ammunition was running short, and a fresh sup- 
ply must be sent out. Myself and nine others 
were detailed to perform this rather delicate 
operation. The ammunition wagons were be- 
yond the strip of woods in our rear, and we 



9<d In the Ranks. 

must run the gauntlet of sharpshooters, and 
risk odd shells in going and returning over 
this route, before getting started from the 
works. Taking each a piece of shelter-tent, 
in which to carry cartridges, we started for the 
wagons. If any man, that has been placed 
in similar circumstances, can say that he felt 
no unusual agitation, in view of the possible 
consequences, I must be allowed to suggest 
that he is got up on a different plan from my- 
self. The truth is, I was considerably shaken 
up over the matter. It would seem quite 
heroic to be able to say that I was glad of it, 
when assigned to this dangerous duty. I am 
free to confess I was not glad of it. When 
selected for this purpose, I went through with 
it. The world looks very bright, on a fine 
June day, to a healthy boy of seventeen. 
He is not particularly anxious to exchange it 
for another, least of all by way of minie balls, 
when he has no chance to send back any in 
return. To do our work without faltering, it 
was necessary to count on a hurried burial 
down there between the lines that night. 
Whatever reckoning others made, this is how 
it seemed to me, and we might just as well 
look the probabilities square in the face. 



The Gauntlet. 91 

Taking as much ammunition as each could 
conveniently carry, we returned to the rifle- 
pits, and thence to the skirmish-line. For 
some distance we had partial protection from 
the rifle balls, by crouching low as we walked ; 
but as we advanced we drew the fire of the 
rebels more and more, as they discovered us 
and our object. At last we reached the ra- 
vine. It seemed as if a perfect stream of 
bullets was hissing down it ; but we must 
pass. One after another we dashed through. 
As I passed, I turned my head to the right, 
and glanced up the ravine. The pit, at its 
head, seemed to smoke, from the rapid fire 
of its occupants. As I turned my head, a 
bullet clipped close to my face, and seemed 
to touch my hair. Onward we went, at the 
top of our speed, and soon reached the shelter 
of the high bank by the railroad. 

Here we rested a few minutes. All were 
safe thus far. A fine spring bubbled out of 
the bank. How cool and refreshing its water 
seemed! Here were a number of men who 
had been shot on the picket line, some dead, 
others dying, one or two unharmed, caring 
for the wounded, until night should permit 
their removal. The sight of these mangled, 



92 In the Ranks. 

bloody forms here was grimly suggestive. 
We must not think too much. The most 
dangerous part of our work still remained. 
The ammunition must go to the picket pits — 
must be carried there under the close range 
of rebel riflemen. During our progress thus 
far our pickets had kept up a sharp fire on 
the enemy. As we started for the pits the 
fight became more exciting. Both parties ex- 
posed themselves more recklessly, the rebels 
to shoot us before we could complete our 
mission, and our men to keep them down and 
make their fire less deadly. Bullets hissed at 
every step. I went toward the left, past sev- 
eral pits, I know not how far, and stopped at 
one in which was a lieutenant. Forgetting 
the situation for a moment, I stood upright, 
and stretched myself for relief from the weari- 
ness of carrying my heavy load. Instantly a 
bullet whizzed past my head, and dashed into 
a tree in the rear of the pit. Quick as a flash 
the lieutenant jerked me down, and warned 
me of the danger of exposure. After resting 
awhile, I started to return. Back to the rail- 
road, again our only protection was the rapid 
fire and deadly aim of our riflemen. Thence 
to the main line, the only point we dreaded 



Safe Again. 93 

much was passing the ravine. The return was 
at last successfully accomplished. Notwith- 
standing the seventy of the fire to which we 
were exposed but one of our number was in- 
jured — mortally wounded, I was told. Had 
it not been for the return fire of our own men 
not one of us would have reached the picket 
line alive. 

This was my first and only visit to the 
picket line at this point. The same evening 
I was detailed for guard duty at brigade head- 
quarters, where I remained till after July 4th. 

On this part of the line it was not the cus- 
tom to station videttes in front of the picket 
pits at night, as was usually done. A con- 
stant fire was kept up day and night. The 
boys used to invent various contrivances for 
the special benefit of the " gray backs." I 
have seen them work for hours to mold 'a 
bullet of such form as would make a particu- 
larly ugly sound, and then fire it across with 
a double charge of powder. But the favorite 
amusement was shooting iron ramrods. These 
could be picked up by hundreds over the 
battle-ground of the previous days, and, with a 
little careful fixing, could be made to fly with 
considerable accuracy. They were thought to 



94 



In the Ranks. 



have peculiar penetrating power, if they could 
be made to strike a picket pit with the sharp 
end. As they would send such an unusual 
missile whizzing through the air, they would 
laugh and chuckle over the anticipated con- 
sternation it would cause. One result often 
prophesied was that they would "string" a 
goodly number of the enemy on the ramrod. 
Whether such direful results were ever pro- 
duced, we had no means of knowing. 

Colonel Carle, of the One Hundred and 
Ninety-first, then in command of the brigade, 
had his headquarters in the woods about a 
hundred yards in the rear of the line. Here 
we were exposed to shells and stray rifle- 
balls, which occasionally reached us. The 
only damage inflicted was the loss of a quart 
of coffee, which was overturned by a fragment 
of shell striking in our fire while we were pre- 
paring dinner. About the same time one man 
was wounded at division headquarters, a few 
rods to our right. 

It is remarkable how indifferent men be- 
come to danger under such circumstances. 
While myself and another soldier were en- 
gaged in washing some clothes one day, at a 
little stream to the right of this place, a bullet 



Under Fire. 95 

passed within a foot of our heads. The only 
effect was to turn our conversation to the 
subject of the range of rifles. It would nat- 
urally be supposed that, under such constant 
danger of death or wounds, men would be in 
continual dread of what might happen. As a 
rule, it is quite otherwise. Feelings of dread 
and uneasiness gradually give way to a sense 
of comparative security. 

Coming under fire for the first time, a man 
usually feels as if he were about as large as a 
good-sized barn, and consequently very likely 
to take in all the balls, shells, grape, and can- 
ister, and such odds and ends, coming in his 
direction. After a while he begins to realize 
that he is not so large, after all, and frequent 
and continued experience confirms him in the 
view. That which unnerves the recruit is not 
alone the fear of injury or death to himself, 
but also the very nature of the terrible trag- 
edy about to be enacted. He takes his place 
in line of battle as they are forming for a 
charge, knowing that hundreds of men who 
now stand with him there in the full flush of 
life and health and the hopefulness of vigor- 
ous manhood, in one hour will lie dead in 
their blood, or be racked with the agony of 



g6 In the Ranks. 

shattered limbs or torn flesh. What man of 
ordinary humanity can be unmoved by such 
surroundings? No man should regard war 
otherwise than with the utmost horror, nor 
sanction it except as an awful, inevitable ne- 
cessity. Some such feeling as this is in the 
breast of most men on the eve of battle, 
modified somewhat by the fact that the stern 
necessity is present. The difference between 
a recruit and a veteran is, mainly, that the 
latter has learned to command, perhaps to 
ignore, such feelings. 

For my own part, I can remember few oc- 
casions when such thoughts did not oppress 
me during the waiting which is frequently in- 
cident to the opening of an engagement. 
These thoughts soon vanish amid the noise 
and excitement of battle. 

You may ask whether soldiers feel any 
scruples as to shedding blood. I answer, first 
and in general, kill is the game. You know 
it, and prefer that the killing should be con- 
fined as much as possible to the parties over 
yonder. If this seems to you to be a cold- 
blooded way of looking at things, please re- 
member I am not representing the ideal, but 
the real. Again, suppose the bullets are 



Skirmishers. 97 

coming thick and fast from the woods over 
yonder, you soon discover that the only way 
to stop them is to send in your own as close 
as possible. 

In firing, we always took aim, though 
often we could not see the enemy on account 
of trees or brush in which they were con- 
cealed. In such case we took aim at the 
point where they were supposed to be, guided 
by the smoke, a glimpse of a battle-flag, or 
the glitter of a gun here and there. The men 
were sometimes ordered to keep up a fire 
when not an enemy could be seen. The One 
Hundred and Ninetieth was generally sent on 
the skirmish line. The men always preferred 
this, and did not like it if this place was given 
to another regiment. Those who were not 
accustomed to skirmishing dreaded it. On 
the other hand, our boys were uneasy if 
placed in line of battle. As a matter of 
course, the skirmishers took aim in fighting. 
It was not seldom a question of marksman- 
ship between two men, each the other's 
target. We took advantage of every thing 
possible in the way of "cover," the main 
point being to go ahead, stir up every thing 
in front, develop the enemy's position, drive 



98 In the Ranks. 

in his skirmishers. A line of skirmishers is 
always thrown forward when the presence of 
an enemy is suspected. They will soon dis- 
cover what is in front. Advancing at a dis- 
tance of five paces apart, the loss is not so 
great as if a regular line were advanced in 
the same manner. In the Summer of 1864 
the One Hundred and Ninetieth was armed 
with the Spencer rifle, an eight-shooter, and 
well adapted to work on the skirmish line. 



A Mutiny. 99 



Chapter IX. 

JUNE 23d the brigade was withdrawn from 
this position for a day's rest. Our stay at 
this point had been almost equivalent to con- 
tinuous fighting. We had lost men every 
day in killed and wounded. At headquarters 
we had received orders to prepare to move. 
After we were packed up ready to march, 
there was still a little delay before starting. 
Young Robbins and myself sat down with 
our backs against a tree, taking it easy. As 
we were sitting thus, a bullet came singing 
over, and struck the tree close to our heads. 
The ball was so far spent that it did not 
enter the tree, and was picked up by Robbins. 
We concluded this would do as a parting sa- 
lute, and soon got out of that without any 
lingering regrets. 

On the morning of the 24th the brigade 
moved to the left, and went into works before 
occupied by men of the Second Corps, on 
the Jerusalem plank-road. They should have 
reached this position before daylight, but did 



ioo In the Ranks. 

not. They could have reached the works 
with very little exposure by coming in a little 
further to the right. Instead of this, the col- 
umn was led by Colonel Carle through open 
ground, less than eighteen hundred yards from 
rebel batteries. These, of course, opened on 
them with shell, causing considerable loss. 
Moreland, of our company, was among the 
killed. A shell struck him in the chest. The 
men, without waiting for orders, but without 
disorder, moved obliquely to the right, to 
reach the protection of lower ground, which 
there led up to the works. This called forth 
such violent protest and condemnation from 
Colonel Carle, that the result was a serious 
mutiny in the One Hundred and Ninetieth. 
Both officers and men felt that it was a blun- 
der and an outrage to be thus needlessly ex- 
posed ; and when Carle cursed them as cow- 
ards, they resented it. Confusion followed. 
The officers, almost to a man, refused to obey 
orders, or do any thing, until the insult should 
be retracted. The men were becoming dan- 
gerous. Carle rode up to Adjutant Wright, 
and ordered him to restore order, and take 
the men on to the works. Wright replied 
defiantly and profanely. Carle laid his hand 



Fort Warren. ioi 

on his pistol. Instantly a score of rifles were 
leveled on him. Yells and curses resounded 
on every side. He withdrew his hand, apol- 
ogized to both officers and men, and they 
moved on to the rifle-pits without further 
trouble. Carle had the reputation of being a 
good officer; but it was said that he was 
under the influence of whisky at this time. I 
was with the brigade tent and baggage, and 
knew nothing of this until I visited the com- 
pany the next evening. Neither do I remem- 
ber who was in command of the regiment on 
this occasion. I think the colonel, lieu- 
tenant-colonel, and major were all absent, 
wounded. After we had been here a few 
days, arrangements were made to desist from 
picket firing ; and after this we were no longer 
subjected to the peril resulting from this use- 
less and barbarous practice. The loss of men 
from this cause was said to be about eighty 
a day in Grant's army, and was probably 
not less on the other side. Where the lines 
were so close, it was probably necessary and 
justifiable. 

I remained at brigade headquarters until 
some time after July 4th, and was then re- 
lieved and returned to the regiment. It was 



102 In the Ranks. 

then posted on the left of the Jerusalem road. 
Our camp was on sloping ground, the rifle 
pit at the foot of the slope. A few rods in 
front rose a slight ridge, and beyond this, a 
narrow fringe of timber shut out the rebel 
works from direct view. In this timber, or 
just beyond it, were our pickets. The well 
from which we obtained our supply of water 
was between our rifle-pits and the ridge 
spoken of. Further to the left, our line ex- 
tended into woods, where the timber had been 
"slashed" in front for several hundred yards. 
Back of where Company C's camp was, on 
the left side of the road as you faced the 
worlcs, we soon after began the construction 
:>f a fort, called Fort Warren. It was four 
hundred feet square, strongly and carefully 
constructed. When finished, the ditch must 
have been twelve feet deep. The rebels did 
not get the range of our position at first, but 
annoyed us a good deal at times by pitching 
shells around at a venture. In a few days 
they would strike the vicinity of the fort with 
considerable accuracy, and kept at it with a 
persistence which showed that they were cer- 
tain of the locality. After the work had pro- 
gressed some time we felt no concern about 



" Hopping" Shells. 103 

the shelling. If it became too lively, we 
would stretch ourselves in the bottom of the 
ditch, and wait for the thing to let up, with 
great resignation, as we preferred this to 
working. 

The confederate gunners had a way of 
sending shells "hopping" across, which was 
rather uncomfortable. One evening they were 
entertaining us in this fashion. The little 
ridge in front of our pits generally prevented 
shells from striking them, though the camp 
on the sloping ground behind was exposed. 
We had gone down to the works, waiting for 
the rebels to get through with their fun, 
which we regarded as comparatively harmless. 
We could see the flash of the gun, and by 
the time the shell would arrive, we would be 
safely sheltered behind the pit. One of these, 
however, struck the pit a few feet to my left. 
We waited a few seconds, expecting to hear 
it explode. Thinking the fuse had been extin- 
guished, the men had risen up again and were 
indulging in jocular remarks over the matter, 
when, to our astonishment, the shell exploded 
in the air about ten feet high and nearly over 
the works, not far from where it struck. 
Where it had been during the intervening 



104 In the Ranks. 

seconds we could not imagine. Fortunately 
no one was injured. 

At this time, one of the men, who had 
not yet had supper, became impatient and 
started out for water. Just as he reached the 
well a shell came bounding over and struck 
him. A single exclamation of pain announced 
the result. Some of the men were at his side 
in a moment. A stretcher was procured, and 
he was carried back to the ambulance stand, 
to be taken to the hospital. The shell struck 
him about midway between the knee and 
ankle, leaving the fragment dangling by a few 
shreds. 

While engaged in constructing Fort War- 
ren we alternated in work with a regiment of 
colored troops. They were fine, soldierly 
fellows, and stood the shelling quite as well 
as any green troops. 

At the entrance of the inclosure, of course, 
there was no ditch, a space being left about 
twelve feet wide. Passing along, one day, I 
saw a young colored soldier standing on this 
narrow passage between the ditches, curiously 
examining a twelve-pound shell which had 
been thrown over, and had failed to explode. 
Addressing him and taking the shell in my 



Striking Tents. 105 

hands, I proceeded to give him a scientific 
explanation of how the thing worked. After 
expatiating at considerable length and in glow- 
ing language on the prodigious effects of such 
projectiles, I then unfolded to him the man- 
ner in which this particular sample might be 
exploded. 

•'Do you see that thing?" pointing to the 
fuse. 

" Yes, sah, I sees him," replied the dusky 
warrior. 

1 ' Well, now, if I spit on that — the thing will 
go off. See here — yeep ! yeep /" as I spat on it 
and hurled it into the ditch. With a yell 
and a screech a Comanche might have been 
proud of, that darkey "lit out." As he ran 
he turned his head, and seeing me dancing a 
war-dance to work off the extra hilarity which 
his fright had occasioned, he pulled up and 
joined in the laugh. 

Work at this place continued about two 
weeks. One morning we were roused up 
before daylight and ordered to strike tents 
quietly. In ten minutes the column was mov- 
ing down the plank road toward the rear. 
We went about half a mile and camped. The 
next morning we again struck tents before 



106 In the Ranks. 

daylight, and moving toward the front, we 
formed line of battle in the rear of Fort 
Warren. Here we lay till after sunrise, when 
we returned to about the same place from 
which we had started. What all this meant 
was more than we could make out, but we 
supposed that an attack was anticipated. 

We were then placed on picket still farther 
to the left. We called it picket duty; but 
as far as I could ascertain, we were the only 
force in front of the enemy on this part of the 
line. This ground had been fought over. 
The Second Corps had been driven from here 
June 23d, with heavy loss of men and guns. 
From the manner in which the trees were cut 
and splintered by bullets and cannon-shot, it 
would scarcely seem possible for a human 
being to remain alive on part of the ground. 
The loss had been terrible. Many of the dead 
had been buried in the trenches. Others, by 
the score, were buried where they fell, in 
rebel fashion, by throwing some dirt over 
them where they lay. Now, after the lapse 
of a couple of weeks, the dirt had washed 
from them, in some instances. Here and 
there you might see an arm, a leg, or a 
ghastly head protruding from a slight mound 



An Intruder. 107 

of earth. If any man was enamored of the 
glory of war, it was good for him to sit down 
and meditate in such a field as this. 

Two of the boys sat down to their dinner, 
one day, near some bushes at the edge of the 
woods. The coffee was poured out, the fry- 
ing-pan, with its contents of fried meat was 
beside the blackened coffee-cups. They were 
squatted on the ground on either side eating 
with a hearty relish, when one of them no- 
ticed more closely the bushes just overhang- 
ing the frying-pan, within a few inches of it. 
A human hand, dried, black, shriveled, pro- 
truded from the leaves, the distorted fingers 
in attitude as if about to make a grab at the 
contents of the pan. You suppose they 
turned away in horror at such an intrusion on 
their feast. Why so ? The dead were all 
around us. When we slept at night behind 
the trenches, we made our beds by them. 
Under such circumstances human nature suf- 
fers a reaction, and horrors become the com- 
mon things of life. These young men did 
nothing of the kind. With a light remark 
suggested by the idea of such a party wanting 
to rob them of their dinner, they moved the 
pan a little, and finished their meal. This 



108 In the Ranks. 

done, they examined further, and found it to 
be the half-buried remains of a rebel soldier. 
On a scrap of paper they found the name, 
company, regiment, and State. The paper 
also contained a request for the burial of the 
body. They prepared a grave and buried him. 
Then as a matter of courtesy and humanity, 
one of them went out between the lines and 
was met there by a rebel soldier, to whom he 
related the circumstances, and requested him 
to join in this becoming duty by preparing 
a properly inscribed head-board. This was 
cheerfully done, and the board set up at the 
grave. In passing to and fro between the 
lines other dead were found, and these, too, 
were decently interred. 

The days passed on pleasantly, and with- 
out special incident. No videttes were kept 
out, except in the night. None were needed, 
as the ground was open and level between us 
and the enemy. There was no picket firing, 
and we had a very comfortable time of it. 
We could watch the artillery "practice," 
which took place almost every evening, be- 
tween the batteries on our right, without any 
apprehension that they would practice on us. 

One evening I sat on the rifle-pit, watch- 



Artillery Practice. 109 

ing this. Scores of the men were doing the 
same, or were idling the time away as suited 
them best. The sun had sunk from sight ; 
but as the shells would burst over the rebel 
redoubt, which was then the mark of our ar- 
tillerists, they seemed balls of silver, in the 
rays of the sun, now invisible to us. Then 
they would expand, and roll away in little 
snowy cloudlets, almost before the sound of 
the explosion would reach us. Suddenly a 
great column of smoke shot upward from the 
redoubt ; dark at first, but turning to a silver 
whiteness, as the rays of the sun touched it. 
A sound that seemed to shake the earth came 
rumbling through the air. A shell had reached 
and exploded the magazine. A laugh, with 
a cheer here and there, ran along our heavy 
picket-line. The rebels called out: "Stop 
laughing, Yanks!" "Stop that laughing!" 
Whether this would have resulted in an 
outbreak between the pickets, is uncertain ; 
but a moment later a shell came screaming 
across, about ten feet above the pits, pass- 
ing a few rods to my right. Thinking this 
was but introductory, the men dived for the 
pits, and the laugh was suddenly and indefi- 
nitely postponed. Then a general "ha-ha" 



no In the Ranks. 

rose from the rebel pickets, and good nature 
was restored. 

Some time in July I was taken sick with 
fever. I stayed a day or two at the surgeon's 
tent, but can not remember much about what 
occurred. I gave away every thing I had. 
Fortunately I gave my gun to Joe Bovard, 
who took care of it. I remember nothing of 
this, but he told me so afterward. I have 
also an indistinct recollection of being sent 
away in an ambulance, of being very sick at 
City Point, of the dull, dreamy indolence of 
convalescence. I was then sent to Davis' Isl- 
and, New York. I improved rapidly during 
the voyage. I was here but a few days when 
I received a furlough, to report at Philadel- 
phia, September ioth. The patriotic people 
of Pittsburg had ample and generous arrange- 
ments to care for the sick and wounded sol- 
diers that passed through their city. Arriving 
there weak and dispirited, a gentleman met 
me at the train, and took me to a place where 
every convenience and comfort was provided. 
I had looked so long on the forbidding, bloody 
front of war, that it was a most pleasing rev- 
elation to discover that back here was the 
warm, loving heart of Peace. 



In the Hospital. i i 1 



Chapter X. 

I ARRIVED at Philadelphia the night of 
September ioth. There had been a seri- 
ous riot during the evening, between the sol- 
diers from the hospital and some of those 
patriotic citizens who, although painfully loyal 
at times, have a great antipathy to blue. I 
reached the Citizens' Hospital without moles- 
tation. The next morning a large crowd of 
rioters gathered in the vicinity of the hospital, 
and a murderous raid was anticipated ; but 
they dispersed without any demonstration. 

From Philadelphia I was- transferred, at my 
own request, to Little York, Pennsylvania. 
Although now quite recovered, I was detained 
here some time, in the hospital drum corps, 
as a musician. We went out one night, on 
the occasion of a Republican meeting. 'We 
started to parade the principal streets with a 
transparency, the usual following of small 
boys, etc. A crowd of patriots cheerfully 
greeted us with stones, brickbats, and like 
tokens of sympathy. We returned to head- 



H2 In the Ranks. 

quarters in about twenty minutes, a demoral- 
ized outfit. The bass drum was broken, one 
drummer's head was peeled, the transparency 
was smashed, and we were mad. The man- 
agers gave us a dollar apiece ; we disposed of 
our instruments, and started up street to look 
for any little incident that might afford balm 
for our wounded feelings. Opportunities were 
plenty, and many a cracked head bore testi- 
mony to the zeal with which the great national 
issues were discussed. 

About the middle of October, myself and 
a large number of other convalescents started 
to rejoin our regiments, at the front. We 
went by rail to Baltimore, and remained over 
lrght at Fort Federal Hill, to go on by 
steamer, on the morrow. The "heavies," 
doing garrison duty here, were accustomed 
to dealing with recruits, and counted on mak- 
ing them step around in fine military style. 
This crowd was composed of men to whom 
soldiering was no novelty, and they had no 
fancy for extras. Hence, when they were or- 
dered, with much pomp and assurance, to fall 
in line, in front of the barracks that evening, 
for roll call, at nine o'clock, there was some- 
thing of a scene. The anathematical display 



Roll Call. 113 

has rarely been equaled in modern times. 
Perhaps twenty-five men out of several hun- 
dred at last took their place in a sort of line, 
with much gravity and feigned decorum, play- 
ing green, standing in any thing but soldierly 
attitude. Behind them, perched on the rail- 
ing, windows, or wherever they could best see 
the show, was about as unruly and uproarious 
a crowd as could well be found. After vainly 
trying to bring order out of confusion, the 
sergeant, in great disgust, began to call the 
roll. A name is called : 

-Here!" 

"Here!" 

"Here!" 

On all sides the word " Here" is bellowed 
and screamed by a score of voices. The face 
of the burly sergeant grows red with fury, 
but he proceeds. 

"John Smith." 

Another chorus of hooting, jeering re- 
sponse, and then, in a momentary lull of the 
hubbub, a stentorian voice solemnly an- 
nounces : 

" He 's gone to long ago." 

This rather startling announcement is hailed 
with another outburst of laughter, yells, and 
8 



1 14 In The Ranks. 

cat-calls, interjected with allusions to the ser- 
geant, which were far from complimentary. 
Finally, having exhausted his extensive vo- 
cabulary of maledictions on that mob of 
obdurate sinners, this patriotic officer took him- 
self away, and the boys turned in for the night. 
The next forenoon we went on board a 
steamer, but did not start down the bay till 
toward evening. The vessel may be called 
"steamer" as a matter of courtesy. The 
thing went by steam, but I would not care to 
ship a cargo of hogs on such a contrivance, 
unless they were of the kind that ran vio- 
lently down the mountain. During the night 
the weather changed. A strong wind, with 
rain, swept across the bay. I was asleep on 
the deck when the storm came on, and awoke 
thoroughly wet and cold. Leaving my water- 
soaked blanket where it lay, I started to go 
below. The door was closed. A soldier, 
standing in the hatchway, suggested that by 
our united efforts we could push it open. I 
put my shoulder against the door, and he 
braced himself against me, and Ave gave a 
heave. The door went open and I went in, 
plunging headlong into the crowd lying on 
the floor, as close as packed herring. 



Rascality. i i 5 

Nobody swore, except those who were 
most severely bruised by our feet. There 
was an opening left in the side of the vessel, 
about two feet wide by twelve feet long. In 
the slow-going days before the war, this stately 
ship was probably used for transporting cattle, 
and the hole was made for the. humane pur- 
pose of giving the animals air. Now it let in 
both air and water. I finally made my way 
down into the hold, and there, with the coal, 
dirt, and other things, found a more agreeable 
temperature. We reached Fortress Monroe 
the next evening. Here we were transferred 
to another vessel, and went up the James 
River, arriving at City Point the following 
evening. 

This trip was very unpleasant. Besides 
the discomfort caused by the stormy weather, 
we were not provided with rations. No 
doubt provisions were furnished, and somebody 
got the benefit of them. On the second day 
those in charge of the vessel, in collusion 
with the officer in charge of our escort, pro- 
posed selling us lunch at the rate of fifty 
cents for a slice of meat and a piece of bread. 
Their enterprise did not pan out very well. 
But few bought, preferring hunger to submit- 



n6 In the Ranks. 

ting to the outrage. During the entire trip I 
ate not more than two ordinary hard-tacks. 

Arriving at City Point, we were provided 
with a substantial supper. Our hotel accom- 
modations, however, were not strictly first- 
class. Recruits and returning convalescents 
arriving here were provided with lodgings 
during their stay in a huge board structure 
known by the expressive name of "The Bull 
Pen." As to rooms, furnishings, and general 
appointments, the government had been ex- 
ceedingly frugal. In fact, the entire outfit 
consisted of four walls, roof, and floor, joined 
together on principles of the strictest econ- 
omy. The floor was comfortably carpeted 
with mud to the depth of about an inch and 
a half. Tobacco chewings, cigar stumps, etc. , 
added variety and flavor. 

On this particular occasion the institution 
was so crowded that you could not get room 
to lie down, all to yourself. This was no 
serious objection, as it furnished ample apol- 
ogy for resting your feet on the other fellow's 
stomach. Thieves found the "Bull Pen" an 
excellent place for plying their trade. The 
recruits and substitutes finding entertainment 
here usually had some money. 



Thief. i i 7 

This night, after the lights were out, and 
all had been quiet for some time, I lay doub- 
led up on the floor still wide awake. In such 
a gathering there are usually some splendid 
snorers. This crowd had some performers of 
rare merit. My location was toward the end 
of the building. Lying here, listening drows- 
ily to the odd sounds about me, I heard a 
slight commotion down toward the center of 
the building, then a blow, and the cry of 
"Thief!" Then more blows, a general rising 
up of that part of the congregation, and a 
pouring out of profane objurgations that was 
surprising. The swearing and pounding went 
on with great vigor for some minutes, those 
not directly engaged cheering the others on 
with hoots and yells. In fact, a free fight 
was going on down there in the intense dark- 
ness, every body thumping every one within 
reach, thinking to spot the thief. Finally 
some one struck a match. As its flickering 
rays lighted up the gloom, they revealed a 
dozen or so of disgusted combatants glaring 
savagely on each other, and each wanting to 
know who was the thief. Of course it was 
impossible to find him now. 



n8 In the Ranks. 



Chapter XL 

THE next day I reached the regiment, 
then on the Welden Railroad, near the 
Yellow Tavern. I say "the regiment." I 
mean what was left of it. Instead of the 
large, full organization I left in July, it was 
now but a remnant. Four commissioned 
officers of the One Hundred and Ninetieth 
remained. These were Colonel Pattee, Adju- 
tant Wright, Captain Birkman, and Lieuten- 
ant Peacock. Of Company C, there were 
but ten men, myself making the eleventh. 

A terrible calamity had befallen them at 
the time the Welden Railroad was taken from 
the enemy, August 18th and 19th. The 
brigade was sent forward to skirmish. They 
advanced and drove every thing before them 
till they struck the main force of the enemy. 
Here they fortified and held their ground 
without support until the afternoon of the 
19th, when they were compelled to surrender. 
A few escaped by taking the suicidal risk of 
running through a gap in the rebel lines. 



All That was Left of Them. 119 

Mike Coleman, Captain Birkman, and a few 
others escaped in this way. Mike told me 
he heard men call "Halt! Halt!" on every 
side ; but he looked neither to the right nor 
left, and went ahead. Dave Steen was killed 
in this battle. A ball struck him in the 
breast, a little to the right, and high up, sev- 
ering one of the large blood vessels. As he 
fell, two of the men ran to him. He asked 
for his Bible — his only words. Hastily open- 
ing his knapsack, they handed it to him. Al- 
most as his fingers closed on the holy book, 
his spirit hastened away from that scene of 
turmoil to the rest above. He was a brave 
soldier and a true man. 

After the ground had been re-occupied, as 
it quickly was by men of the Ninth Corps, 
his remaining comrades buried him, and 
placed around his grave a rude framework to 
protect it from disturbance. The few that 
escaped, together with returning absentees, 
represented the organization under Colonel 
Pattee, who had now recovered from his 
wound. During September and October the 
regiment suffered considerable loss in fighting 
along the left of our line at various points. 

On one occasion they were ordered to ad- 



120 In the Ranks. 

vance and "feel" the enemy. The design 
was merely to drive in his pickets, and com- 
pel him to show his strength. As soon as 
the command "forward" was given, away 
they went with a yell, sweeping the rebel 
pickets before them, and on into the works 
beyond, before the enemy knew what was the 
matter or could recover from his astonishment. 
An attempt was made to recall them as they 
went rushing on toward the rebel works ; but 
signals and bugle-calls were unheeded. They 
entered, and for a time held a part of the rebel 
works. Of course, this could not last long. 
It was not the intention to bring on a general 
engagement, and they were not supported. 
In a little while they were driven back again 
with serious loss. Captain Kinsey, of Com- 
pany C, was severely wounded, and never 
returned. In trying to bring Captain Kinsey 
off the field, young Overdoff was killed, shot 
through the head. When he first came to 
the company he was not very well liked ; but 
his kind and pleasant bearing soon made 
friends of all. From his first experience in 
the Wilderness until his death, he was loved 
and honored as a brave and fearless soldier. 
In the latter part of November the Ninth 



The Roundheads. 121 

Corps was passing, one day, and I went over 
to the road, and waited till the One Hundredth 
Pennsylvania came along. Here were many 
familiar faces. George Preston was there, his 
face as honest and bright as in boyhood's 
days ; and George Dillinger — or was his name 
Hugh? Names become confused as the mind 
runs back over so many years. What I saw 
there was but a section of the past slipped 
forward, and given a different setting. My 
earliest recollections were connected with 
these faces, when, at church or school in the 
pleasant Summer-time, in one Ave listened to 
the good Irish pastor's " sixteenthly " and 
" seventeenthly " and "in conclusion" as se- 
dately as our seniors; and in the other we 
took our regular flogging, as prescribed by 
the lamented Solomon. The stalwart boys in 
blue were the same boys still ; but now they 
were the heroes of many a hard-fought battle. 
The hurried questions and answers of that 
brief interview touched upon as tragic scenes 
as ever employed the pen of genius. They 
told how one fell here, another there — dead 
for the land they loved. 

December 7, 1864, we started on a raid, 
the object of which was to disturb the enemy's 



122 In the Ranks. 

railroad communications toward the south. 
We followed the Jerusalem plank-road one 
day's march, reaching Notaway River in the 
evening, at Freeman's Ford # . Our force was 
a strong one, consisting of the Fifth Corps, 
under General Warren, and a division of cav- 
alry. With this force we felt quite at home 
within one day's march of the main army. 
Once across the river, and at a greater dis- 
tance, we might stir up all the game we could 
take care of. Such was the feeling expressed 
by the soldiers as they discussed the situation 
on the march that day, and indulged in con- 
jectures as to our probable destination and 
the outcome of the expedition. Of course, 
the company wag had a hearing while he ex- 
pounded his views as to what we would do to 
the Confederacy or the Confederacy to us. 
The soldiers had confidence in General War- 
ren, and regarded him as a prudent and 
efficient officer. He had the reputation of 
being personally brave and fearless. 

As evening approached, we turned to the 
right from the plank-road, and halted in a 
corn-field, not far from the river. As we were 
about to break ranks we heard on our right 
the clatter and snapping of gun-caps, which, 



On the March. 123 

in a regiment armed with muzzle-loading guns, 
usually follows the command to prepare to 
load. This sounded like business; but nothing- 
further indicating trouble occurred, and soon 
the cheerful camp-fires enlivened the scene, and 
we proceeded to make ourselves comfortable. 

It was the general impression that we 
would soon move on, and make a night 
march ; but as time passed, the men made 
down their beds, and addressed themselves to 
sleep. About ten or eleven o'clock, orders — 
perhaps delayed — were received for the men 
to camp for the night, the march to be re- 
sumed at two in the morning. It at once 
entered into the fertile brain of Lieutenant 
Peacock to extract a' little fun from the cir- 
cumstances. Going to a group of men sleep- 
ing soundly under their blankets, he deliber- 
ately roused them up and informed them that 
they could sleep till two o'clock. 

" Well, what the did you wake us up 

for, to tell us that?" 

"Why, you lunatic, aren't two sleeps 

better than one ?" 

Then would follow a volley of protestations 
and modified blessings from one side and the 
other. 



124 I N the Ranks. 

At two in the morning we were again on 
the march. We passed Sussex Court House 
and a place called Corman's Well. In the 
evening we reached the North Cross House, 
on the Halifax road, thirty miles from Pe- 
tersburg. Here we struck the Welden Rail- 
road, and the work of destruction began. 
It was an exciting scene as the work pro- 
gressed. There was an abundance of ties 
along the road, and of these fires were built 
beside the track. As far as the eye could 
reach the track was a line of blazing fires and 
busy, shouting men. A brigade would stack 
arms on the bank beside the track; then, 
taking hold of the rails, would begin to lift 
and surge on it altogether, shouting in unison: 

"Ohe!" 

"Ohe!" 

"Set her t#F 

"Ohe!" 

Soon it would begin to give, and quickly 
would be hurled over from the road-bed with 
a ripping, crashing sound, followed by the 
shouts and cheers of the men. Then came 
the process of detaching the part thus over- 
turned from that still undisturbed, if this had 
not been previously accomplished. Using a 



Destruction. 125 

length of rail as a lever, this was quickly 
done, and in a surprisingly brief space of time 
the rails of a half-mile of road would be lying 
on blazing piles of ties. As a general rule, 
the rails were laid on the fire, and the heating 
of the middle portion would cause them to 
bend by their own weight, thus rendering 
them useless. When there was time, the men 
twisted the hot rails around trees or telegraph 
poles, or wreathed them together in fantastic 
shapes. We worked nearly all night. Toward 
morning we halted in a field, and slept for a 
couple of hours. Early in the morning the 
work was resumed, and continued till evening, 
with only brief intermission for dinner. It 
rained during the day, and became very cold 
toward evening. Night found us near a 
stream ; I do not know whether it was the 
Meherrin River or a tributary of that stream. 
If the latter, it must have been near its junc- 
tion with the river. The town of Bellefield is 
on the Meherrin. We tore up the road to 
that town. The town was held by a force of 
rebel infantry, and also artillery to the number 
of seven or eight guns. 

A dismal storm of snow and sleet came on 
in the evening, and we could only anticipate 



126 In the Ranks. 

a night of discomfort. Not long after dark 
we were ordered to fall in, with only arms 
and ammunition. The intention was to sur- 
prise the rebel force at Bellefield, or, at least, 
this was the belief of the men. If so, the 
project was abandoned. We crossed the 
stream, and tore up some more track, and 
returned. At this time the only man lost by 
the regiment during the raid was killed. 

As we overturned a stretch of rail, as be- 
fore described, he was caught under it as it 
fell. In the darkness and confusion no one 
noticed the accident but myself; and such 
was the noise and shouting, it was some time 
before I could make it known. As soon as 
possible we lifted the rails and drew him out. 
His chest was crushed by the great weight, and 
he scarcely breathed after he was extricated. 

We spent the night standing around the 
fires. Sleep was impossible. The freezing 
mud was ankle deep, and, as the sleety storm 
swept by, it encased the outer world in an icy 
covering. Muffled in rubber blankets, crouched 
around the fires, to get what warmth and com- 
fort they could, as the driving wind whirled 
the flames this way and that, the soldiers 
waited for the return of day. 



Return. 127 

The next morning the return march began. 
Flankers were kept out on each side of the 
column, to guard against surprise, and to pre- 
vent men from straggling out from the col- 
umn, as it was known that rebel cavalry was 
hanging on our flank and rear, ready to inflict 
whatever damage they could. There was an 
occasional .dash on our rear; but this was 
easily repulsed, and the day passed without 
special incident. 

We camped that night in woods, two days' 
march from Petersburg. The storm still con- 
tinued, but not so severe as during the pre- 
vious night. I was fortunate enough to se- 
cure a piece of board, by means of which I 
provided myself comfortable lodging for the 
night. That board was torn from the side of 
a church near by. It was none the worse for 
that. Perhaps that church never before did 
any service in the cause of loyalty and the 
Union. That night it kept some Union sol- 
diers off the wet ground. The next morning 
the march was resumed. Before we had gone 
far, we made a discovery that was enough to 
bring the blush of shame to the face of any 
civilized man. Some of our men, who had 
fallen behind in the march out, had been in- 



128 In the Ranks. 

humanly butchered. I suppose the citizens, 
with their usual stupidity, thought we would 
never return, and no day of reckoning would 
come; and, finding these men in their power, 
murdered them with a cold-blooded brutality 
only equaled by the most degraded savages. 
Some were found riddled with bullets and 
stripped of their clothing; some had their 
throats cut, besides gunshot wounds. My 
first information was from Mike Coleman, 
who told me, with a look of horror in his 
face, of the blood-curdling sight he had just 
witnessed. 

This discovery had a peculiar effect upon 
the soldiers. Even those who were usually un- 
demonstrative gave vent to their feelings in 
hearty curses on the rebellion, and every thing 
connected with it. The wish was freely ex- 
pressed that Lee might intercept us, and bring 
on the final battle between civilization and 
barbarism. Up to this time there had been 
no destruction of private property, except a 
mill, which had been burned as a war meas- 
ure, and a house, from which a cavalryman 
had been treacherously shot; but now, either 
with or without orders, the men began to 
burn and destroy every thing within their 



Retaliation. i 29 

reach. Even the fences were fired when it 
could be done. Not a single able-bodied man 
could be seen along the route; they had fled 
from the wrath to come. 

The One Hundred and Nintieth was on the 
flank most of the day. About the middle of 
the afternoon, we reached a group of houses 
and outbuildings, which might almost be called 
a village. Here the head of the column halted, 
and the flankers drew in near the road. A 
large dwelling-house stood on the left of the 
road, the side on which we were. The build- 
ings on the other side of the road were al- 
ready in flames, and men were preparing to 
fire the dwelling-house. An old man was 
looking out of a little out-door kitchen. He 
was leaning on his staff, trembling with age, 
cold, and terror. A woman, bearing in her 
arms a babe but a few months old, came out 
of the house. Her pale face and quiet bear- 
ing, as she walked hurriedly away from the 
door, touched the gentler nature in the sol- 
diers' hearts, that was now dominated by the 
tiger, which the sight of blood unjustly shed 
had aroused. Sympathy was marked on every 
face. Not an unkind word was spoken ; but 
the house must burn. This general distress 



130 In the Ranks. 

must teach the lesson that even war has its 
limit of barbarity. 

That evening we recrossed the Notaway 
River, and camped about a quarter of a mile 
beyond, where we camped the first night out. 
Here we were joined by troops that had been 
sent down from Petersburg for that purpose. 

A large house, perhaps a tavern, stood 
near the road, nearly opposite the site of our 
former camp. We had not been long in 
camp till we saw this house, and the build- 
ings connected with it, wrapped in flames. 
From the fact that the place was not fired at 
once, we supposed it would be spared. The 
case was thus explained : When the men first 
came to the house, they were informed, on in- 
quiry, that there was no man about. The 
woman who seemed to be the mistress of the 
house, claimed to be a widow. Investigation 
revealed a Springfield rifle and the uniform of 
a murdered soldier concealed about the prem- 
ises. This was sufficient. The house was 
fired; and, as the flames spread, a man ran 
out from some place of concealment, and 
tried to escape. He received the mercy he 
had given. 

During the night the sky cleared, and by 



Keeping Warm. 131 

morning the ground was frozen. You would 
suppose that the soldiers suffered from the 
cold. Most of them slept as comfortably as 
you would at home, on such a night, covered 
over with your quilts and blankets. How was 
it done? Every man wore an overcoat, car- 
ried one wool blanket, a rubber blanket, and 
at least one piece of canvas tent, five feet 
square. We "bunked" at least two together, 
sometimes three. This gave two or three 
heavy wool blankets, as many rubber blankets, 
besides the shelter tents. If the ground was 
wet, we put a rubber blanket and a piece of 
tent under us ; otherwise, only one of these, 
and the rest over us. Then, with a fire on 
one side, and a log on the other, there was no 
trouble about getting a good night's sleep. 
Such were our sleeping arrangements this cold 
night. 

The march of the following day was very 
trying, because of the roughness of the ground 
and the extreme cold. In the evening we ar- 
rived in the vicinity of Petersburg, and took 
our place on the left of our lines, rather to- 
ward the rear. The loss of the Union forces 
during this raid was about one hundred, killed 
and wounded. 



132 In the Ranks. 



Chapter XII. 

OUR camp was in woods. The ground 
was somewhat flat and wet, but with 
good facilities for draining. A deep ditch 
was dug around the camp on three sides. 
We had plenty of timber near the camp for 
building tents. The tents built by the sol- 
diers for Winter- quarters were generally about 
nine feet by seven, built of logs, five feet 
high. A ridge pole was fastened up at the 
proper height, over which four shelter tents, 
buttoned together, were stretched and brought 
down to the top log on either side, and se- 
curely fastened. This formed the roof. The 
gable ends were closed with pieces of shelter- 
tent, boards, or some substitute. 

A door about three feet high was left 
in the side next the company street. A 
chimney, with fire-place, was made at one 
end, carried up a foot above the roof. It was 
built of clay and sticks. Usually the tents 
were uniform in this respect, the chimney of 
each at the same side of the tent. Two beds 



An Execution. 133 

or bunks, one above the other, were made of 
poles covered with a layer of leafy twigs, if 
possible. On these were laid wool blankets, 
rubber blankets, extra clothing, etc., making 
a very comfortable bed. Cracker boxes fur- 
nished material for door, seats, and table. 
The chinks between the logs were closed with 
clay mortar. The Winter-quarters of a regi- 
ment was simply a neat, cleanly village of 
small log houses, with this peculiarity, that 
only one row of houses faced on a street. 

A military execution took place not long 
after our return from the Welden raid. A 
man had deserted to the enemy from a Mary- 
land regiment, was captured, tried, and sen- 
tenced to be hung. The troops were ordered 
out to witness the execution. A hollow 
square was formed around the scaffold, and in 
due time the doomed man was led forth, ac- 
companied by a guard, provost-marshal, and 
chaplain. The prisoner promptly ascended 
the scaffold, the sentence was read, and prayer 
was offered by the chaplain. The rope was 
placed about his neck, and an attempt was 
made to draw the cap over his head. It was 
found that the cap should have been put on 
first, and they loosed the rope to change it. 



134 In the Ranks. 

At this point the trap-door gave way, and 
precipitated them all to the ground. The 
straps with which the prisoner's knees had 
been bound were now loosed, so that he 
could again ascend the scaffold. He sat on 
the steps while repairs were made. When all 
was ready he took his place on the trap-door, 
first testing it with his weight, to see whether 
it might again give way prematurely. The 
cap was now drawn over his head, the noose 
adjusted, and the trap sprung. After he had 
hung for some time, we marched back to 
camp. 

Our stay at this camp was very pleasant. 
The location was supposed to be unhealthy, 
and they issued whisky and quinine to the 
men for a while. This did more harm than 
good. 

My tentmates were George Dunn, Joe Bo- 
vard, and Andy Shank. Joe Bovard had 
been in the service from the beginning of 
the war. He was over six feet in height, 
a good-natured, manly fellow. George Dunn 
extended upward to an altitude of at least six 
feet and a half, besides running along the 
ground an extraordinary distance before being 
started in a vertical direction. Our tent was 



A Hop. 135 

larger than the ordinary, ten by twelve feet, 
well daubed and comfortable. 

One day Jim M'Guire solicited "the hos- 
pitality of our tent for the purpose of enter- 
taining some friends." This meant that they 
wanted to have a high old time, and our tent 
would be very convenient for that purpose 
because of its size. Early next morning the 
festivities began. Commissary whisky was 
provided in abundance. " Sport " (William 
Harris) furnished music for the occasion, 
which he extracted from an old fiddle pro- 
cured from some unexplainable source. The 
ball opened with a good pull all around from 
the canteen. Ordinary forms of entertain- 
ment and social enjoyment soon became stale 
and they concluded to try the mazy dance. 
Our tent was floored with puncheons, and the 
racket which they kicked up was something 
marvelous. Occasionally I looked in to see 
how the thing was progressing. "Sport" 
was perched upon the upper bunk, his chin 
on the fiddle, his tongue protruding from his 
mouth, and wiggling to and fro in time to the 
the music, while on his face was a look of 
solemn intensity, as if his life depended on 
his efforts. The dances were necessarily 



136 In the Ranks. 

limited to "French Fours," but these were 
rendered with great animation and in the 
latest style of art. As George Dunn would 
execute some of the fancy flourishes with 
which their figures were profusely ornamented, 
his head would bob against the canvas roof. 
This was suggestive. Procuring a stick of 
proper size, I crossed over to the rear street, 
and stood back of the tent watching my op- 
portunity. Presently Dunn's head came bob- 
bing against the canvas, and I brought the 
stick down on it with a good, sharp crack. 
The effect was all that could be desired. 
There came an unearthly bellow, accompa- 
nied, I grieve to say, with many exclamations 
suggestive of the future prospects of the cul- 
prit who had' cracked the head of the festive 
dancer. Out they poured through the little 
door in hot haste to chastise the offender; but 
he was nowhere to be found. Failing in their 
search, they returned and resumed their exer- 
cises. 

Although the day was quite mild and 
pleasant, there was some fire in the tent, and 
a thin column of smoke rose lazily from the 
chimney top. Thinking to add still further 
the spice of variety to the occasion, I took a 



Ingratitude. 137 

cast-off garment and spread it over the top of 
the chimney, and awaited events. 

Meantime within, the dance waxed warm 
again. The fiddle shrieked, the government 
stogies thundered upon the puncheon floor; 
but soon it was evident that all things were 
not as they had been from the beginning. 
Confusion first fell upon the fiddler. His 
dulcet notes, as they whirled through their 
lofty flight, reeled, and staggered, and fell, to 
give place to anathemas, steady and well sus- 
tained. Smoke filled the tent, and came 
creeping out through every crevice. They 
rose up as one man and cursed the chimney 
with great vehemence. They came scram- 
bling out of the door, wiping their weeping 
eyes. A brief investigation revealed the 
cause of their discomfiture. In dislodging 
the offending garment from the chimney they 
nearly wrecked that ornamental structure. 
As soon as Shank saw what was the matter, 

he at once announced that "that had 

done it. He had played that trick on him 
once before, when he was getting dinner." 
From this and other remarks that were made, 
I thought it prudent to withhold all . further 
co operation. Toward evening the entertain- 



138 In the Ranks. 

ment came to a close. This was hastened by 
unfavorable rumors from regimental head- 
quarters. After carefully reconnoitering the 
position, I ventured to present myself at the 
tent. Dunn was deposited on the lower bunk, 
overcome by the varied duties of the day. 
The upper bunk had not proved equal to the 
emergency, and had broken down. The table, 
seats, and door were broken. The canvas 
roof was torn loose at one side and hung dis- 
consolately from the ridge-pole. Shank was 
in the tent ; Joe Bovard was sitting on a 
stump in front, evidently holding a discussion 
with his stomach. "Sport" was capering 
around with many sage remarks and comical 
gesticulations intended to express his sympa- 
thy. Just then Shank came out of the tent, 
and made for him, to chastise him for some 
offense. "Sport" fled up the street and 
across a little bridge to the parade-ground. 
The feet of his pursuer were heavy, and 
when he came to the bridge he paused, re- 
flected a moment, and deliberately tore it up, 
and returned with a very satisfied expression 
of countenance, remarking : 

"I've cu-cut off 'is communications off, 
anyhow." 



Prohibition. 



139 



This little episode of camp life seems to 
reach a very flat conclusion. But the facts 
leave no alternative. It required about two 
days' diligent labor to clean up and repair, to 
say nothing about Dunn's head, stomach, and 
general constitution. The working of pro- 
hibition was well illustrated in the army. If 
the traffic had been " regulated" as it is 
throughout a large portion of our country, 
the effectiveness of the army would have been 
destroyed within six months. As it was, the 
officers in charge of the commissary depart- 
ment were prohibited from selling to the pri- 
vates. They tell us now that there is no use 
of trying to reduce drunkenness in this way. 
We cite the army as an illustration of suc- 
cessful prohibition. If men had been inclined 
to evade the law, they could have obtained 
liquor as readily as in civil life. If the evil 
had become manifest, a remedy could have 
been applied more directly than in civil life. 
But it was not necessary. If intoxicating 
liquors are made difficult to obtain, multitudes 
who would otherwise use them and become 
drunkards will not take the trouble to procure 
them. We affirm that this was demonstrated 
in the Army of the Potomac. There was 



140 In the Ranks. 

very little drunkenness. A few would secure 
whisky, and become intoxicated. Sometimes 
it was accomplished by forging the name of 
an officer to an order. In the revel just de- 
scribed one of the men disguised himself in 
the uniform of an officer, and bought the 
whisky. 

I never knew whisky to do the men any 
good. It was certainly one of the strangest 
of follies to issue whisky rations, as was some- 
times done on occasions of peculiar exposure. 
The men who never tasted stimulants had the 
most endurance, and suffered the least from 
cold or exposure of any kind. We wonder 
at the delusions of witchcraft, and can scarcely 
comprehend how men could so abandon com- 
mon sense as to give credence to such folly ; 
but the absurdity of the use of alcoholic stim- 
ulants is not less puerile. The time will come 
when it will be told with pitying wonder how 
men of this day stupidly ignore the ghastly 
results of the liquor traffic to themselves and 
others, and with supine meanness bow their 
necks to the yoke which it fastens upon them. 
They will believe the most barefaced lies, as- 
sent to the shallowest sophisms of the liquor- 
dealers, and turn a deaf ear to the most evi- 



Political Economy. 141 

dent dictates of common sense, justice, and 
prudence. 

I think it is Thomas Carlyle says: " Eng- 
land has a population of thirty millions, mostly 
fools." The same comment is fairly applica- 
ble to every so-called civilized people in the 
world. The dealers say, "It is a benefit to 
trade." The fools echo, "We can not have 
prosperity in state, county, or town without 
the dram-shops." The brewers and distillers 
say, "It enhances the value of property and 
products of all kinds." The fools answer, 
with idiotic promptness and docility, "Yes, 
we must continue this ulcerous cancer upon 
the body politic — this unclean, pestilential, 
gangrenous sore, reeking with disease, vice, 
poverty, madness, to increase the price of 
grain." Yes, gentlemen, grain is more profit- 
able deposited in the stomach of your son- or 
your neighbor's son, in the form of whisky, 
mixed with sundry deadly drugs to give it 
"tone," than in pork, beef, or mutton, or 
transformed into the power which sets the 
whirling spindles of the East in motion, fires 
up the black caverns of a thousand furnaces, 
and fills unnumbered homes with joy and 
plenty. This would do very well if you saw 



142 In the Ranks. 

fit to wait till the redeemed drunkard would 
recover health and manly ambition, and pro- 
vide his family with sufficient food, clothing, 
and shelter. But there is a more direct way 
to turn your produce into money. Transform 
it into liquor. With this, arm the vampires 
that suck the people's blood, and turn them 
loose after him. Post them in every city, 
village, cross-roads. They will strip him, 
ruin him, finally kill him ; but never mind 
that. They will make you quick returns in 
bright dollars. There is, however, one dis- 
advantage incident to this method, which is 
worthy of consideration. The victims of the 
dram-seller die, and he must make more 
drunkards or his business will be gone. He 
may get his clutches on your boy. He will, 
if he can. This would be very unpleasant. 
However, if such a thing should occur, you 
can drive your son away, banish him from 
your sight. Then, if you should hear some 
time that he has ended the struggle with pis- 
tol, rope, or poison, thus decreasing the in- 
come of yourself and your partner, the dram- 
seller, you can console yourself with pious 
reflections on the mysterious ways of Prov- 
idence. 



On Picket Duty. 143 



Chapter XIII. 

AT this time pickets were only changed 
every third day, "three-day picket," we 
called it. We preferred this, as it gave us 
such a long time without any duty of this 
kind, that the change was welcome. We 
were almost two months in this camp, and 
during this time I was only on picket twice.. 
There was no enemy in our immediate front. 
The days passed as tranquilly and as free from 
danger as if war had never been. Now and 
then you could hear a boom of cannon far to 
the right; but if you wanted to see a rebel, 
you had to travel four or five miles to get a 
glimpse of one. 

The second time I was on picket, the 
weather was extremely cold. The first day 
we were placed on reserve, at a substantial 
rifle pit, about fifty yards back of the regular 
picket line. During the night, for some rea- 
son, we had orders to strengthen the line. I 
was sent to the extreme right of our brigade 
line, where we joined with pickets of German 



144 In the Ranks. 

troops. The posts were about a hundred 
yards apart, at each post, a strong rifle-pit. 
The fires were built at the right or left of the 
rifle-pit, and carefully screened with bushes, so 
that those about them could not be seen from 
the outside. Our line here was in woods, 
and the timber was cut down between the 
posts. In front of the posts, videttes were 
placed during the night, who were relieved 
every two hours. The men at this post were 
from a Delaware regiment, and all strangers 
to me. 

It was very cold work, standing vidette 
two hours at a time ; in fact, my toes were 
slightly frosted the first night. We discussed 
the question, and concluded we could relieve 
matters a little. We arranged with the men 
on the post at our left to put out but one 
man from the two posts. By alternating, we 
would only be on post one-half as long. The 
officer in charge of the line would come from 
the left, and it was arranged that the other 
post would signal us when he approached, 
and one of us would go out. In this way we 
always had a man out from each post when 
he inquired into matters. This was rather an 
irresponsible way of running the Army of the 



An Alarm. 145 

Potomac, but it seemed to us an improve- 
ment. 

An incident occurred the second night, 
which convinced us that our plan was open to 
objection. The men were all sleeping around 
the fire, except one, a nervous fellow, of 
whose qualities I had not a high opinion. I 
must have been sleeping but lightly. Sud- 
denly I was aroused by a noise outside the 
screen, to the right, as if some one had been 
passing stealthily along and tripped, falling 
headlong. I was instantly on my feet, and 
telling the men to scatter out and see what 
was the matter, I hastened out toward the 
right, followed only by the nervous man. We 
searched the ground carefully as far as the pit 
on our right. With our bayonets we thrust 
among the brush, and examined every dark 
corner, without any result. We returned, to 
find part of the men still at the fire, and the 
rest behind the rifle-pit outside. A similar 
search toward the left was equally fruitless. 
We never were able to explain the thing sat- 
isfactorily, but concluded to keep out our 
videttes. 
^ After the Hatcher's Run campaign, I saw 

one of these men in rather unfavorable cir- 
10 



146 In the Ranks. 

cumstances. We had been in camp a few 
days, and were engaged in building our tents, 
when we heard the sound of a fife and drum 
approaching. As they drew near, we saw a 
corporal and a file of men, and in their midst 
one of the heroes of the picket adventure, 
who had shivered over the fire that night, 
when he should have been out looking for the 
supposed intruder. Aross his back was hung 
a board, about three feet long by one in 
breadth, on which was inscribed, in large 
letters : 

COWARD. 

The musicians were playing "Rogues' 

March," to which the soldiers had adapted 

the following touching lines : 

"Poor old soldier, 
Poor old soldier, 

Bucked and gagged and sent to , 

Because he would n't soldier." 



The Old Gray. 147 



Chapter XIV. 

THE morning of February 5th found our 
camp in a bustle of preparation. We 
had orders to march, leaving our tents "in 
statu quo" taking only overcoats, arms, and 
haversacks. General Warren was mounted 
on his old gray horse. This we regarded as 
a sure sign that a fight was on the programme. 
The column headed toward the left. Then we 
knew that Warren had done well to mount 
the old gray. A tender spot of the Confed- 
eracy lay in that direction. The "Southside 
Railroad " was the main artery that carried 
life-blood to the rebel army, and was guarded 
with jealous care. 

The morning was bright, crisp, and frosty. 
The men were in excellent spirits. We had 
with us a number of waggish fellows that 
would be the life of any company, jovial, 
hearty, able to bring forth a joke under the 
most forbidding circumstances. One of these 
(Smith let us call him) had served eight years 
in the regular army before the rebellion, and 



148 In the Ranks. 

had been in the volunteer service during the 
entire war. He was a sturdy, big-hearted 
fellow, now becoming somewhat gray with 
years. His favorite word was "Woo-haw," 
which he pressed into service quite frequently. 
From this we called him " Old Woohaw. " 

Some time in the forenoon we found the 
enemy intrenched at Rowanty Creek, just be- 
low the junction of Gravelly Run and Hatch- 
er's Run. From a slight ridge about three 
hundred yards back, open ground sloped down 
to the run, where there were a few small trees 
on the bank, which sloped abruptly to the 
water. The stream was perhaps fifteen feet 
wide. On the other side the ground rose 
again as abruptly as on the side next to us; 
and on the bank were the rebel rifle-pits, this 
side of the stream being also covered with 
woods. It was not more than twenty-five or 
thirty yards from the side of the stream on 
which we were approaching to the pits beyond. 

At this time I was armed with a Spring- 
field rifle, muzzle-loader, while the rest had 
the Spencer. I never professed to have a 
natural appetite for cold lead, broken bones, 
etc., and very much disliked to go into a 
skirmish with a "long Tom." However, 



Deploy. 149 

there was no help for it. The sharp crack 
of carbines showed that the cavalry had met 
with stubborn resistance. At the first halt 
after we heard firing, I loaded her up and 
was ready. 

x^s the head of the regiment reached the 
ridge, we halted. The cavalry were keeping 
up a lively fire just ahead and on the right, 
and there was every prospect of an interesting 
time. Very soon we were ordered forward to 
skirmish. As the order was received, Smith 
remarked, with a peculiar twang to his heavy 
voice and an odd twist of his head : 

' ' Now, boys, the woo-hawin' is a-goin' to 
begin." 

We followed the road over the ridge, and 
filed to the right on a farm-road which led in 
this direction. As we filed right Colonel Pat- 
tee's voice rang out : 

" Deploy, skirmishers !" 

We came around the corner on a run, and 
as the order was given the men faced toward 
the enemy, and advanced as they deployed. 
Before the rear of the regiment had left the 
main road, the rest were charging down 
through the open field. They looked like a 
mob as they broke ranks and went pell-mell 



150 In the Ranks. 

over the field, yelling like madmen. But 
there was method in their disorder, and before 
they had passed over half the distance they 
were in as good position as if they had gone 
about it in the most formal manner. It was 
a reckless movement ; but the officers were 
not responsible for it, as no order was given 
except to deploy. 

Reaching the stream, we found it covered 
with ice, on which we hoped to cross. One 
of the foremost boys stepped upon it, and it 
at once gave way, and let him into the water. 
Just the top of his head stuck out above the 
fragments of ice. He was fished out as ex- 
peditiously as possible, and the idea of cross- 
ing in that way was abandoned. Men came 
down with axes, and proceeded to fell trees 
across the run on which to cross. While this 
Avas going on, we did our best to keep the reb- 
els down behind their works, and render their 
fire ineffectual. We soon succeeded in this, 
but not until they had inflicted some loss. 
Sullivan was standing a little below me, when 
a bullet clipped by his left hip, cutting his 
pants about three inches, but doing no harm. 
A ball touched my hand as I was capping 
my gun. Others struck close around. Soon 



Close Range. 151 

the trees were down, and part of the men 
crossed, while others kept careful watch on 
the rebels, and fired rapidly to keep them 
down. When enough had crossed, perhaps 
forty or fifty, then every body yelled, and 
those who had crossed charged the pits, and 
the rest came crowding over. Some of the 
rebels surrendered, and a few escaped. As 
the final charge was made, the line of battle 
came down, reaching the run just in time to 
lose some men. There may have been some 
reason unknown to us for bringing them 
down ; but as far as we could see, it was a 
mistake. Our loss was fifteen wounded and 
one or two killed. 

The losses of a regiment do not always 
show its courage nor its effectiveness as a 
military organization, but rather its lack of 
discipline, and unskillful handling. The One 
Hundred and Ninetieth was composed of well- 
trained, veteran soldiers, and had good officers. 
This fight shows how such a regiment may 
incur serious disaster without room for just 
reflection on the skill, courage, or discipline 
of men or officers. Had a much stronger 
force been behind those works, situated as 
they were, our heedless charge would have 



152 In the Ranks. 

resulted in a bloody repulse, unless speedily 
supported by a charge from the line of battle, 
which would have involved heavy loss. 

The road which we had followed is called 
the stage-road. Crossing the run, we followed 
it in the direction of Dinwiddie Court House, 
until we reached the Quaker road. The en- 
emy was not encountered in our front, but 
farther to the right there was severe fighting 
along Hatcher's Run. During the night we 
moved to a position near Dabney's Mill. I 
think we followed the Vaughan road. In 
crossing Gravelly Run, there was some delay 
in getting the column over. After we had 
reached the other side, and were waiting for 
the others, a colonel offended one of the men 
of Company A, ordering him away from a 
fire by which the colonel was standing. This 
called forth some of the liveliest sort of vi- 
tuperation. Such combinations of opprobri- 
ous epithets are rarely exhibited. That man's 
relatives, near and remote, male and female, 
were brought into requisition to define the 
exquisite meanness of his nature and origin. 
The discomfited nabob appealed to Colonel 
Pattee for redress, who sent Adjutant Wright 
back to quiet the boys. 



Dunn's Shoe. 153 

During the day we moved out from our 
position near the run, into the woods in front, 
and formed line of battle. The One Hun- 
dred and Ninetieth was in the line. The day 
was dismal. Rain and snow had fallen during 
the preceding night, and now it was growing 
colder. Our line advanced over ground partly 
swampy. In maneuvering to pass one of these 
difficult places, the Two Hundred and Tenth 
Pennsylvania was massed behind us, and came 
crowding close after. Some of the men 
would break through the crust of ice, and 
sink into the mud beneath. Among others, 
George Dunn, notwithstanding the size of his 
feet, went plunging in, half-way to his knee. 
When the foot was withdrawn, it was found 
that the shoe had been left in the depths be- 
low. George hesitated, thinking, perhaps, to 
attempt a rescue ; but it was too late. The 
Two Hundred and Tenth, coming on in close 
divisions, trampled it down beyond all hope 
of recovery. Advancing some distance, the 
line halted. The formation of the Second 
Division must have been imperfect, on ac- 
count of the nature of the ground. This 
probably caused the delay. 

On the right a severe engagement was in 



154 In the Ranks. 

progress, and in front was some skirmishing. 
The men, as usual with them when placed in 
line of battle, were uneasy and dissatisfied. 
Soon they began to go out, one at a time, 
then by twos and threes, toward the front. 
No objection was made by the officers, until 
the line began to grow thin. A little later, part 
of the line became engaged ; but, as the right 
of the corps had been checked, we were soon 
withdrawn, and took a position not far from 
the run, where we intrenched and held the 
ground. Here we were on the left, where 
our line rested on the run. We were consid- 
erably annoyed by shells, which came nearly 
from our rear. Our pits faced down the run, 
and afforded no protection from shells coming 
from the enemy's position at our right. 

On the morning of the 8th we had orders 
to "fall in," and soon we were in line, ready 
to move. Passing to the right a short dis- 
tance, we halted, at a gap in the rifle-pits, 
where a road led out to the front ; I think it 
was the Vaughan Road. Soon an aid rode 
up to Colonel Pattee with orders. Some one 
inquired, of those standing nearest the colonel, 
what the orders were. One of them replied, 
with the utmost seriousness : 



Orders. 



r r the One Hundred and 
<<T he orders are for the W ^ ^ ^ 

Ninetieth to report in 

minutes." d ome distance, 

wep r\rtrirovt g -- dst ^ 

and then bore to the ng , ^ durillg 

with dead horses that n di days. 

th e cavalry fightmg o **£ ^ „, 

Aft er advancing about a mil , Qn 

our right, and some for this pur- 

timber. We hastily mtre ^ 

pose tearing down a house. ^ 

the enemy would not let us 
disturbed; nor were we ™ St f ^ sound of 

tlie StUl . ^Ve'col hear the officers giv- 
preparation. We coui as th 

<■* t« :tf "Si: -'«■..- 

prepared to load. was evl . 

tended far past our eft. a ^ ^ right 

dently preparmg to come flank> 

flank. We threw up We 

a " d W 1 ed ; U, ;«e-lt to prevent our 

knew of no arran . This sus- 

^ overwhelmed by * and we ex . 

pe„se continued for som ful storm 

pected every momen that the . ^ ^ 

would burst upon us. «ut 



156 In the Ranks. 

seen galloping toward us, and we were ordered 
to withdraw from our exposed position. We 
lost no time in regaining the works we had 
left in the morning. What this little side 
show was for, we could not imagine. Per- 
haps it was a misunderstanding. 

The same day we recrossed Hatcher's Run, 
and began the construction of permanent works 
on that side. We worked by reliefs, three 
hours on duty and three off. We had run 
out of provisions, and a fresh supply failed to 
arrive. The men became dissatisfied, and 
finally refused to work. Threats of compell- 
ing them to work were made. The men an- 
swered by gathering up their guns and start- 
ing for the woods, in the rear. At this point 
General Warren came down and spoke to the 
men in a reasonable manner. The mere fact 
of his coming among them had a good effect 
on the men. He urged the necessity of the 
work, and told them that if provisions were 
not on hand by a given time, he would con- 
sent to their ceasing from work. The men then 
went to work cheerfully. 

Jack M'Bride and myself had previously 
solved, in a measure, the difficult problem of 
reconciling the conflicting claims of an empty 



Camp. 157 

stomach and the vigorous prosecution of the 
war. As night came on, we retired some dis- 
tance into the woods, built a fire, and made 
ourselves comfortable. The next morning we 
found a piece of pork, which had been lost 
or thrown away three or four days before. 
It was good. We scraped the mud from it 
carefully, and ate it with a relish. We then 
came back and went to work with the rest. 

After these works had been completed, 
we moved some distance down Hatcher's 
Run, to a small branch of that stream, called 
Arthur's Creek. Our position was on the left 
flank of the army, facing rather toward the rear. 
For the third time this winter we built winter- 
quarters. Our camp was pleasantly located, 
fronting a large farm, in the rear woods. 
Brigade and division headquarters were in 
the woods, our picket-line in the open ground 
beyond the farm-house, a mile from camp. 

On the 7th of February, the next day after 
the fight near Dabney's Mill, I got a Spencer 
rifle, and kept it until we were mustered out. 
The spiral spring of the magazine was dam- 
aged in some way, so that it would receive 
only four or five cartridges, instead of seven. 
I repaired it by taking the spring out entirely. 



158 In the Ranks. 

It would then receive nine or ten, and a little 
practice made the experiment a success. 

Duty was light, and our main business was 
amusing ourselves. For in-door amusement, 
euchre was the favorite. There was not much 
gambling, but many fine points were settled 
by "best three out of five." One form of 
out-door amusement was the following : A 
peg was driven into the ground, and to this 
were fastened two ropes, fifteen or twenty 
feet long. Two men were then blindfolded, 
and placed one at the end of each rope, on 
opposite sides of the peg. To one was given 
a notched stick, about two feet long ; and also 
another, to rub over it, making a scraping 
sound. He was called the "scraper." To 
the other was given a pant-leg, or something 
of this kind, stuffed with paper or rags. He 
was called the "pounder," and it was his 
business to "pound " the scraper, if he could. 
They were each required to keep hold of his 
rope. The boys would sometimes stand 
around a circle of this kind by the hour, and 
watch the fun. The two would move about 
with cat like caution, each listening for the 
other. Sometimes the pounder would think 
he had the other, sure ; and, listening most 



Revival. 159 

earnestly, anticipated triumph shining from his 
face, he would bring his weapon down on 
nothing. Again, the scraper, thinking the 
pounder, who was right beside him, was far 
away, would rest the end of his notched stick 
on the ground, and draw the other along it, 
"scrape-scrape," when down would come the 
pant-leg on his head, followed by shouts of 
laughter from the audience. 

The soldiers built a large tent for religious 
meetings, and a revival of extraordinary inter- 
est took place during our stay here. The 
noble Christian young men who did this work 
remember those meetings with satisfaction 
now, whether they are on earth or in heaven. 
They conducted them without the aid of a 
minister. No ! they themselves were minis- 
ters of God, anointed from on high for this 
work. 

Some of the conversions were remarkable. 
One young man, whom I had known as a 
brave, fearless fellow, was converted during 
a meeting of peculiar power. The change 
was plain and evident to all. His handsome 
face was continually bright with the peace of 
God. He fell in battle, March 31st, and died 
in the arms of his comrades, who were trying 



160 In the Ranks. 

to carry him back when our line was broken 
and routed. 

As Spring drew near came the reviews and 
various movements that indicate the approach 
of active operations. Some changes were 
made in the brigade. It now consisted of the 
fragments of three Pennsylvania regiments, 
the One Hundred and Ninetieth, One Hun- 
dred and Ninety-first, and One Hundred and 
Fifty-seventh ; two Delaware regiments, now 
consolidated into one, and the Two Hundred 
and Tenth Pennsylvania. The latter was a 
one-year regiment, and almost as large as the 
rest of the brigade. They were a fine body 
of men, reliable and well-drilled. There were 
but five commissioned officers in the One 
Hundred and Ninetieth. Colonel Pattee and 
Adjutant Wright, Captain Birkman, Lieuten- 
ants Coleman and Peacock. Captain Birkman 
had charge of Companies A, B, and C. The 
One Hundred and Ninetieth and One Hundred 
and Ninety-first acted together as one regi- 
ment, under command of Colonel Pattee. 
The fragment of the One Hundred and Fifty- 
seventh — not more than forty or fifty men — 
was regarded as a part of the One Hundred 
and Ninety-first. 



Reorganization. 161 

We held this little band in high esteem. 
They were heroes, every man of them. 
Captain Carter was in command. We were 
the Third Brigade, Second Division, Fifth 
Corps. 

ii 



1 62 In the Ranks. 



Chapter XV. 

THE BEGINNING OF THE END. 

/^N the morning of March 25th, I know 
V-^ not why, our camp was astir earlier 
than usual. Heavy cannonading could be 
heard toward the right, but this was nothing 
uncommon. As time passed on, the noise of 
strife continued, and seemed to extend farther 
toward the left. Eating a hasty breakfast, I 
started toward the scene of action, determined 
to ascertain the cause of the unusual uproar. 
When starting from camp, I did not suppose 
it was any thing more serious than an artillery 
fight of more than ordinary interest. As I 
went on the sound swelled to a steady roar, 
which showed that a determined battle was in 
progress. Drawing nearer, I saw the troops 
in line of battle, the shells bursting, and 
cannon flaming as far as the eye could 
reach. 

I was informed that Fort Steadman had 
been taken, and a part of our works captured 
by the enemy. Supposing that we would be 



The President. 163 

ordered to the right to retrieve the disaster, I 
started to return to camp. I had not pro- 
ceeded far when I saw the head of the col- 
umn approaching. I hurried back to camp 
and procured my gun and accouterments and 
started to overtake the troops. I was joined 
by Lewis, who had also been absent. Only 
the pickets and ordinary camp guard re- 
mained. As we passed along we met Presi- 
dent Lincoln, General Meade, and staff, com- 
ing toward the left. We concluded to greet 
them with due ceremony. As we met them 
we halted on the bank by the road and pre- 
sented arms. The President raised his hat, 
and turned to General Meade with some hu- 
morous remark as they rode on. It seemed 
a reversal of things for the head of the 
nation to pass in review before a couple of 
stragglers. 

We found the Second and Third Divisions 
drawn up in the rear of the works as sup- 
port, awaiting events. A large number of 
prisoners passed to the rear while we waited 
here. Farther to the left, the First Division 
advanced on the enemy's works, and was 
repulsed with considerable loss, but succeeded 
in establishing our lines nearer to those of 



164 In the Ranks. 

the enemy. We were not engaged, and re- 
turned to our quarters in the evening. 

The next morning I started early to visit 
an acquaintance belonging to the One Hun- 
dred and Fifty-fifth Pennsylvania, First Divi- 
sion. It was not yet sunrise when I reached 
their camp. The acquaintance whom I had 
come to visit was on picket, and I went out 
along the line to find him. The pickets were 
stationed in woods, and the men were 
engaged in building or strengthening their 
intrenchments. Passing along the line, I no- 
ticed that the men kept close to the pits. I 
inquired if things were woolly out there, and 
was informed that the latitude was decidedly 
unhealthy. 

I now noticed a Yankee vidette about 
twenty-five yards in front, rifle in hand, stick- 
ing close to a tree, and scarcely fifty yards 
farther on, a rebel vidette peered cautiously 
past another tree. The vigilance with which 
they watched each other revealed both the 
danger and security of the situation. If all were 
watching each other as jealously as these, I 
could continue my observations with compara- 
tive safety. A little farther toward the left 
I reached open ground. Arrangements had 



Death. 165 

been made, under flag of truce, for burying 
our dead who had fallen in the battle of the 
previous day. Quite a number of dead lay 
scattered over the field, some of them close 
up to the rebel works. They were carried 
back within our own lines and buried there. 
They were carried on blankets, one man tak- 
ing hold of each corner, and thus bearing 
them along. 

Four men thus engaged, halted with their 
burden to rest as they were passing near me. 
In the blanket lay a boy, certainly not more 
than eighteen or nineteen years old. At first 
glance you could scarcely believe that he was 
dead. Surely the grim King could not stamp 
upon dying clay a smile so pleasant, a laugh 
so winning, as shone out from those parted 
lips and half-closed eyes ! But just over his 
heart, half-concealed by his arm, that bloody 
rent in his blouse showed how he died. 

" Somebody's darling is cold and dead." 

I looked upon that handsome, boyish face 
with wonder. The smile was so happy and so 
life-like that the first impression was only that 
of light and careless mirth ; but the lines 
curved away into an expression of solemn 



166 In the Ranks. 

majesty, is if the passing spirit, thrilled with 
the full perception of the grandeur of its own 
immortality, had left this impress on the ten- 
ement of clay. 

On the way back to camp, evidences were 
everywhere visible that the final act . of the 
great national tragedy would quickly come on. 
That afternoon I made ready for active oper- 
ations by purchasing from the "commissary" 
a couple of pounds of extra coffee. The reg- 
ulation quantity was sufficient while in camp ; 
but after a hard day's march there was a 
strong inclination to throw an extra handful 
into the old coffee-pot. As a result, the inex- 
perienced frequently found themselves short 
after a few days, to their discomfort and actual 
disadvantage. 



Forward, March. 167 



Chapter XVI. 

THE next morning, March 27th, I went on 
picket. Some time after midnight, on 
the 28th, we were withdrawn, and returned to 
camp. Orders had come to prepare for the 
march. The camp was astir with busy life. 
In a little while our tents, that looked so neat 
and trim last evening, with their white canvas 
roofs and clean-swept streets, will be silent, 
cheerless, and deserted. My tent-mates had 
taken down our shelter-tents, and I had noth- 
ing to do but pack my knapsack, and all was 
ready. 

In some of the dismantled tents the fires 
still burned, casting their flickering rays up- 
ward through the air, while about them, sit- 
ting or lounging at ease, were men equipped 
for the stern work of war, ready to fall into 
line at the word of command. The stirring 
scene had in it not a little of sadness. We 
had passed pleasant hours in this camp. That 
tender something of association which clings 
around the thought of "the old camp- 




1 68 In the Ranks. 

ground " breathed through the darkness that 

night, and glanced in the camp-fires that 

dimly lighted up the warlike scene. These 

would be our last Winter-quarters. For some, 

the next night would bring the quiet ' ' bivouac 

of the dead. 7 ' 

The strength of the Fifth Corps was as 

follows : 

First Division, General Griffin, . . . 
Second Division, General Ayer, 
Third Division, General Crawford, . 

Total, 15,410 

The artillery consisted of twenty guns, and 
there was an escort of forty cavalry. 

The march began at three o'clock on the 
morning of the 29th, the Second Division in 
the advance. We passed down what was 
called the stage-road toward Rowanty Creek, 
the same road on which we had marched 
February 5th, at the time of the Hatcher's 
Run fighting. We reached the vicinity of the 
creek a little after daybreak, and formed line 
of battle in the open ground south-east of the 
residence of W. Perkins. Much to our dis- 
satisfaction the One Hundred and Ninetieth 
was placed in the line, and the Two Hundred 
and Tenth was deployed as skirmishers. They 



Quaker Road. 169 

did not advance till the line was formed, and 
then not far enough ahead of us to be of any 
use. Fortunately no enemy was found ; but 
time might have been saved by a prompt ad- 
vance of the skirmishers without waiting for 
the line. 

Crossing Rowanty without opposition, we 
followed the stage-road to its junction Avith 
the Quaker road. Up this we marched toward 
Gravelly Run. The First Division, however, 
followed the stage-road some distance farther. 
How far we advanced up the Quaker road I 
am unable to say ; but we finally turned to 
the left, and formed line of battle, facing the 
west. In our front was quite an expanse of 
open ground sloping down toward woods be- 
yond. About a hundred yards to our left 
was a battery, ready for action. The Two 
Hundred and Tenth was again sent forward to 
skirmish. They advanced with due form and 
ceremony until they neared the woods, when 
they opened fire with such a racket that we 
supposed the enemy had been found in force. 
But they soon let up, and presently sent back 
a solitary prisoner, about as forlorn, dilapi- 
dated looking a specimen of grayback as could 
be imagined. 



170 In the Ranks. 

While we were waiting, John Edgar went 
down to the battery, in which he had served 
for a considerable time, detached from his com- 
pany for this purpose ; but he had left it and 
rejoined his company without being returned 
in due form. He was at once placed under 
arrest as a deserter by the officer in command, 
the man whose brutal treatment had caused 
Edgar's unauthorized return to the regiment. 
This made quite a commotion, and might 
have produced serious trouble ; but as soon as 
Colonel Pattee learned what had occurred, he 
went down to the battery, and demanded and 
secured Edgar's release without delay. 

After remaining here some time, we moved 
farther toward the left. Here the One Hun- 
dred and Ninetieth deployed as skirmishers, 
and advanced into the woods, facing the 
south-west. We remained in this position 
during the night. Meantime the First Divis- 
ion had passed up the Quaker road. At an 
old sawmill about half a mile from the Boyd- 
ton plank-road they encountered the enemy 
at four in the evening. A brief but terrific 
conflict ensued, in which the enemy was driven 
back to the junction of the two roads. We 
knew from the rapid discharges of artillery 



The Plank-road. 171 

and the heavy volleys of musketry that the 
great struggle had begun. The_First Divis- 
ion lost 367 killed and wounded, while the 
loss of the enemy was heavier. 

At dark on the 29th rain began to fall, 
and continued during the night and the fol- 
lowing day, making the roads almost impass- 
able. On the morning of the 30th we left the 
position held during the previous night, and 
moved up the Quaker road. Near the sawmill 
we turned to the left, and crossed the Boydton 
plank-road near Mrs. Butler's. In the field there 
were dark patches of blood on the ground, here 
and there, which the rain had not yet washed 
out. Guns that had dropped from the hands 
of wounded or slain, knapsacks, haversacks, 
accouterments stripped from mangled men ere 
they were borne from the field, lay scattered 
on the ground over which we passed. 

Near the plank -road, we deployed, and 
advanced across a branch of Gravelly Run. 
The right of the regiment rested in open 
ground, near a negro's house, and the left 
extended into the woods in a north-west direc- 
tion. I think tlie division formed on our left, 
facing the Whiteoak Road ; and we held a 
gap in our lines, between the Second Corps 



172 In The Ranks. 

and our own. Companies A, B, and C were 
on the right, in the open ground. 

In advancing to this point, we were under 
a sharp fire, to which we did not respond, but 
hastened to throw up pits. On the left of 
the regiment the firing was lively, as the men 
in the woods did not need to be in such haste 
entrenching. We were ordered to " rally by 
fours," and each group threw up a sepa- 
rate pit. 

I was in the group with Mike Coleman, 
and had a chance to notice one of his pecul- 
iarities. As we advanced to this position, he 
seemed to be dazed, and almost unconscious 
of his surroundings. When we halted to en- 
trench, with my most vigorous exhortations I 
could not arouse him to any interest or exer- 
tion. We had no shovel, and must make a 
pit with rails and stones, which we could 
gather up in front. I would urge him to 
carry stones and put them in place. He 
would perhaps pick up a couple, very leisurely, 
and lay them on the ground, back of the pit, 
and then stand with his hands in his pockets. 
The bullets would whistle around, or strike 
the ground near him, and he would look about 
as if he did not understand what it all meant. 



Picket- pits. 173 

Yet in battle, he was always cool, brave, and 
daring. 

In a little while we had a pit, capable of 
stopping a rifle ball, and considered ourselves 
ready for any ordinary emergency. During 
the day, the rebels attacked the line on our 
right, and were repulsed, after a sharp fight, 
with considerable loss. They also advanced 
in our front, and opened fire on us; but only 
as accessory to the more determined move- 
ment on our right. The left of the regiment 
returned the fire; but we could not see the 
enemy, and there seemed no reason to justify 
a random fire. 

There was a man in Company C who was 
usually troubled with a deficiency in his knees 
at such times. Though sufficiently warlike 
and lion-hearted by nature, no doubt, yet his 
legs were his undoing. They worked very 
well, when steered for the rear, but otherwise 
they were a failure. When the firing began 
on the right, he took his position behind the 
pit with an air of great determination. Point- 
ing his gun — a Springfield rifle — toward the 
enemy, he sat crouching low, and looking in- 
tently toward the brush in front. The boys 
or standing around, dividing their 



174 In the Ranks. 

attention between the skirmish, partly visible 

through the trees, and R , whose warlike 

attitude and evident terror called forth good- 
natured raillery. 

" Steady on the left, R !" 

"Cut her loose, R 1" 

"Give 'em , R !" 

Such were a few of the cheering exhorta- 
tions which greeted that redou table warrior. 
To all these he paid no heed. I suppose, in 
spite of his fears, a few shells, a sharp volley, 
or even a charge from the enemy, would have 
given him profound satisfaction — if unharmed 
himself — as a vindication of his prudent vigi- 
lance. Nothing of the kind occurred, and 
soon things resumed their former compara- 
tive quiet. 

There was not much done during the day, 
except to get troops in position and prepare 
for the struggle of the morrow. There was 
some skirmishing, but our losses were not 
heavy — less than two hundred in the two 
corps, the Fifth and Second. 

As night approached, a vidette was placed 
in front of each pit, near the edge of the 
woods, which was about forty yards in ad- 
vance. It was not yet dark when the first 



Night. 175 

man was posted here, and fire was at once 
opened on him, by invisible marksmen in the 
woods. 

At first the bullets went whistling over, 
but soon they came lower, and began to 
strike the fence by which he was standing, — 
right, left, close, — with a savage snap. Up 
to this time our vidette stood it with seem- 
ing indifference; but, as the splinters began 
to fly from the fence, his indifference gave 
place to a lively interest, which called forth 
the laughter of the sympathizing spectators. 
He threw down his gun, and hastily piled rails 
together for a protection, and took refuge be- 
hind them. 

Night came on, dark and gloomy, the rain 
continued to fall, and the soldiers lay down 
on the water-soaked earth to take what rest 
they could. I made a comfortable bed, by 
leaning two rails against the rifle-pit. On 
these I bestowed myself, and drew over me 
my rubber blanket. My knapsack was placed 
under my bed, to protect it from the rain. 
My haversack served for a pillow, and, with 
my cartridge box, which had not been re- 
moved since the morning of the 27th, still 
strapped around me, and my rifle in my hands, 



176 In the Ranks. 

I sank to sleep, the rain pattering on the 
blanket Over my head. 

About four o'clock, Sergeant Hasler woke 
me up to go on vidette post. I arose and 
followed him in the deep darkness. Reaching 
the man whom I was to relieve, instructions 
were given in a whisper, and in a moment I 
was alone. 

This was the last watch of the night, 
and if a surprise was contemplated by the 
enemy, the attempt would be made during 
these two hours. The rebel pickets were 
close at hand, and occasional sounds and 
voices had been heard by my predecessor. 
The rain dripped monotonously from the trees, 
and now and then a breath of wind moaned 
drearily through their branches. The ear alone 
could detect approaching danger; and thus, 
with rifle in hand, I listened, jealously noting 
every sound. 

Time passed on, and at length the almost 
painful darkness began to disperse. Objects 
very near could be indistinctly discerned. 
What if all those weary men back thefe 
should sleep till clearer. light should made me 
a mark for the unseen foe, that did such good 
shooting last evening? Why were not the 



A Watch in the Night. 177 

videttes, at least, advanced into the under- 
brush, instead of being posted at its edge, to 
be shot at by rebel sharpshooters ? Thoughts 
like these were running through my mind as 
daylight approached. But all anxiety was 
allayed before long, by the sergeant calling 
me to come in. 

12 



178 In the Ranks. 



Chapter XVII. 

WE made a hasty breakfast, and then the 
waiting of the preceding day con- 
tinued. Every rifle stood loaded where it 
could be grasped in a moment. As time 
passed on, there was an evident uneasiness on 
the left. About ten o'clock, the occasional 
picket firing increased to the sharper rattle of 
skirmishing, and then deepened to the roar of 
battle, as the sound of continuous volleys 
rolled through the woods, mingled with the 
bellow of cannon and the hiss of shells. 
Every man now stood with rifle in hand, 
ready for the decisive moment which had evi- 
dently come. Above the noise of musketry 
and cannon we could sometimes hear the 
well-known rebel yell, and knew that they 
were charging with all their force. Now the 
horrid uproar could be heard moving back- 
ward toward the run. But now orders have 
come. Word is immediately sent along the 
line to assemble on the right. The Sixteenth 



Gravelly Run. 179 

Maine will relieve us. Colonel Pattee mounts 
his horse. 

"Fall in!" 

"Right face!" 

"Forward, double quick, march!" 

We plunge into the woods, following the 
road toward the left. Shells crash through 
the trees, and bullets patter around like hail. 
The left of the division was flanked and hope- 
lessly turned. The right was stubbornly re- 
sisting, but giving way before the overpow- 
ering force that was crowding down upon it. 
We halted and faced the front, advancing a 
short distance from the road toward the fight- 
ing. Wounded men were limping past. We 
could see the smoke through the trees, and 
the men slowly yielding, fighting as they 
came. 

Colonel Pattee gave an order, but we 
could not hear a word. We all knew what 
it ought to be, and instantly deployed. The 
line, broken and shattered, went back past us, 
and we met the enemy with the rapid fire of 
our repeating rifles. We brought them to a 
stand in our front. If fresh troops could have 
been thrown in on our left, the disaster could 
have been retrieved at this point, and the 



180 In the Ranks. 

rebel charge hurled back ; but our flanks were 
exposed, and we were many times outnum- 
bered, and in danger of being surrounded. 
There was nothing left but to get out of that 
the best we could. 

Colonel Pattee rode to and fro along the 
line, mounted on his bay horse, encouraging 
and directing his men, steadying and inspiring 
them by word and example. Under a less 
devoted commander we would have been cap- 
tured or driven ingloriously from the field. 
Before we reached the edge of the woods, 
the enemy had inclosed us in the form of a 
V, and were pouring their fire upon us from 
the front and both flanks. We brought out 
most of our wounded, but some had to be 
abandoned. Except these, not a man was 
taken prisoner. Reaching the edge of the 
woods, I knew that no stand could be made 
before crossing the branch of Gravelly Run. 
I "stood not upon the order of my going," 
but went at once, and at a lively pace. Col- 
onel Pattee was the last man to leave the 
woods. He came down across the narrow 
field, crouching close to the neck of his horse, 
which was reeling and staggering from wounds 
out of which his life-blood gushed at every 



Battle. i 8 1 

plunge. Leaping from the back of his dying 
steed, he rallied his men on foot. 

The trees on the side of the ridge which 
sloped down to the stream opposite the open 
ground in which we had intrenched on the 
30th, afforded excellent cover. Here most of 
the One Hundred and Ninetieth, and some 
from other regiments, rallied and faced the 
enemy. We were not much more than a 
heavy skirmish line ; but the tide must be 
stayed here, at any cost. The rebel lines 
came surging on, elated with victory; but 
before our steady fire they wavered and came 
to a halt. Thus, with scarcely the space of 
a hundred yards between us, we stood and 
poured at each other showers of deadly mis- 
siles. Rebel shells from somewhere on our 
right were grinding through the trees and 
bursting all around, while the fire from their 
infantry was beating on our thin line with 
terrible effect. A man close beside me was 
struck through the face with a rifle ball, and 
walked back toward the rear, pale and bleeding. 
Casting my eyes toward the left, I saw our 
color-bearer holding the flag, his face deadly 
pale. Brave old Woo-haw had just been 
struck down by his side and carried to the 



1 82 In the Ranks. 

rear. Mike Coleman was in his glory. Mil- 
ler's face wore its accustomed smile as with 
grave deliberation he loaded and fired. 

But this state of things could not long con- 
tinue, and the most hopeful were growing 
anxious. A few hundred were fighting the 
force that had driven a division. But just 
now on the ridge behind us, a battery wheeled 
into position, and sent charge after charge of 
grape and canister whizzing across into the 
enemy's ranks. Still they did not give way, 
and the battle raged more fiercely than ever. 
I had fired not less than eighty rounds, and 
only a few cartridges remained. Others had 
nearly exhausted their ammunition. At this 
point, to our great joy, we saw a line of battle 
advancing to our support. Steadily, quietly, 
they came on, their battle-flags gleaming 
through the trees, moving as orderly as if on 
dress-parade. As they neared us they quick- 
ened their pace, and charged forward with a 
tremendous cheer. It was a grand sight as 
they swept on, every eye fixed on the smok- 
ing timber beyond. But the little stream 
threw them into disorder, and they went rush- 
ing over the field without waiting to re-form. 
As they went over the rising ground which 



Forward 183 

lay between them and the enemy, they re- 
ceived a terrible volley. Half their number 
seemed to go down before it. Back they 
rolled in confusion, leaving the ground strewn 
with their dead and wounded. They came 
back to the narrow flat by the run. There, 
as by one impulse, they rallied and proceeded 
to reform their lines. Not a man shirked. 
While they were forming, we opened fire 
again, over and past them. This lasted but a 
few minutes, and they were ready to advance. 
Steadily, irresistibly, their line passed up the 
slope, into the woods, driving every thing 
before it. 

Our ammunition wagons had now come 
up, and we procured a fresh supply. We 
immediately moved down the stream and 
crossed, to drive back the enemy and retake 
the ground lost at this point. Here the bank 
on the other side was abrupt, rising thirty or 
forty feet in a very short distance, when level 
ground, partly open and partly wooded, ex- 
tended toward the west and north. On this 
steep bank we formed for the charge, three lines 
of battle. The right of the regiment was de- 
tached, and placed on the left of the lines of 
battle to cover the flank. When the advance 



1 84 In the Ranks. 

was made we deployed at skirmish distance, 
at a right angle with the line, and moving in 
the same direction. In this advance, which 
was made about two in the afternoon, we that 
were on the flank did not fire a shot. We 
were not much exposed, though some bullets 
whistled around. 

We finally reached a farm-house in the 
midst of a large plantation. Here we halted. 
We found some of our wounded abandoned 
by the enemy, who seemed to have disap- 
peared from our front. Perhaps the decisive 
battle might have been fought on this after- 
noon instead of the following day, by pushing 
the Fifth Corps across the White Oak Road 
on the right of the intrenched position of the 
rebels. The course followed was probably 
the safer one. 

At first the house which we had reached 
seemed to be deserted ; but a little later we 
found the family, husband, wife, and daugh- 
ter, concealed in a cave in the garden. The 
man was a tall, gray-haired old gentleman, all 
of them well dressed and evidently intelligent 
and refined people. The old man was so 
frightened that he could scarcely speak. They 
seemed to expect brutal treatment from the 



A Drawn Battle. 185 

barbarians, of the North, who, as it happened, 
were quite their equals in culture and hu- 
manity. 

About five in the evening General Bart- 
lett's brigade of the First Division was sent 
across the country to threaten the flank of the 
enemy, who had now pressed Sheridan back 
to Dinwiddie Court-house. They marched 
out past us toward the south-west, and disap- 
peared from sight. 

Darkness soon came on, and we prepared 
to pass another night under arms. It had 
been a hard day. We had lost eighteen hun- 
dred men, and inflicted a loss of one thousand 
on the enemy. Our losses fell chiefly on the 
Second and Third Divisions. Since ten o'clock 
the struggle had been almost continuous, and 
night found the enemy foiled in his purpose 
of driving us from our advanced position, 
which we now held more firmly than ever ; 
but this was all the gain for either side. Some 
time after dark rations were distributed, and 
we lay down to sleep. 

All the accounts of this battle that have 
come under my notice contain statements 
which I am not able to explain, if they are 
correct. It is generally stated that the corps 



1 86 In the Ranks. 

advanced toward the White Oak road, the 
Second Division in front, the Third next, and 
the First in the rear; that the Second Divis- 
ion was driven back on the Third, both on 
the First, and that all were forced back to or 
beyond the Boydton road. From the preced- 
ing narrative it will be seen that this was not 
true of the right of the corps. When we 
were compelled to fall back, in the forenoon, 
we did not retreat more than three or four 
hundred yards. The point at which we rallied 
must have been fully half a mile from the 
plank-road. If the rest of the corps did not 
make a stand until they reached the plank- 
road, it is rather surprising that a rebel force 
was not thrown across the run on our left, by 
which we would have been flanked and driven 
away or captured. The run was a favorable 
position for defense, while the vicinity of the 
plank-road was not so good. Veteran soldiers 
like those of the Fifth Corps would certainly 
rally at the former point. It is probable that 
some went back farther, while enough stopped 
at the run to check the rebel advance. We 
must have fought nearly three-quarters of an 
hour before we were re-enforced. The troops 
sent to our relief were from the Second Corps. 



Joining Sheridan. 187 



Chapter XVIII. 

Pugnavimus ensibus. 

We fought with our swords. 

— Regner Lodbrog. 

ABOUT midnight the Second Division was 
ordered down the plank-road to join 
Sheridan. Bartlett's brigade had proceeded as 
far as Gravelly Run, reaching it at dark. They 
found the stream swollen, the bridge gone, 
and the enemy strongly posted on the other 
side. The brigade was withdrawn during the 
night. It was no easy task to move troops 
under the circumstances. Orders had to gro 
from corps commander down through brigade, 
regimental, and company officers to the pri- 
vates, who had to be aroused from sleep and 
got into ranks without noise. 

Through the deep mud and intense dark- 
ness we moved toward Dinwiddie Court-house. 
The darkness was so deep that we could tell 
nothing about localities. We must have 
marched past the Court-house. We might 
easily have passed the village without being 



1 88 In the Ranks. 

aware of it. We then about-faced and re- 
traced our steps for some distance. There is 
a road leads north from Dinwiddie toward 
Five Forks. We may have taken this, or we 
may have followed the plank-road a couple 
of miles farther back to a road which leads 
across to the one just mentioned. However 
this may be, daylight found us confronting 
the enemy somewhere in this vicinity. The 
only force found was a picket or skirmish line, 
which was easily driven away. The Second 
Division massed near the residence of J. M. 
Brooks, on the Five Forks road. Here we 
remained from about 7 A. M. until 10 A. M. 
During this time the other two divisions ar- 
rived, and took position a little north of us 
on the same road. When we reached this 
point the One Hundred and Ninetieth was 
thrown forward in skirmish line. 

Meantime, the rebels had retired to their 
fortified position at Five Forks. Their works 
extended more than a mile, east and west, 
making a slight angle with the White Oak road, 
turning northward about a half-mile east of 
the Ford road. A heavy skirmish-line was 
deployed in front of their left, and extend- 
ing- some distance eastward, and south of 



Five Forks. 189 

the White Oak road. This force consisted of 
fourteen hundred riflemen, reputed the best 
in Lee's army. In this position they awaited 
our attack. 

About ten o'clock we began to move, tak- 
ing the road leading past Gravelly Run Church. 
At first there seemed to be some uncertainty 
about the movements and position of the en- 
emy; but it was soon evident that his entire 
force was in our front. The column advanced 
along the road, with frequent brief halts, which 
indicated that we were nearing the foe. Ere- 
long we could hear skirmishing, and an occa- 
sional discharge of cannon. Ambulances 
were passing, freighted with wounded cavalry- 
men, and later, stretcher bearers, with their 
bloody burdens, met us, as we moved slowly 
toward the front. 

Near Gravelly Run Church, our line of 
battle was formed. The Second Division was 
on the left, the Third on the right, the First 
in reserve, close behind the other two, a little 
on the right of the center. The two divisions 
in front were arranged as follows : Each di- 
vision placed two brigades in front, in two 
lines each, and the remaining brigade in the 
rear of the center, in two lines. In the Sec- 



190 In The Ranks. 

ond Division, the Maryland Brigade was on 
the left, ours on the right, and Winthrop's in 
reserve. The One Hundred and Ninety-first, 
including the fragment of the One Hundred 
and Fifty-seventh, and the Fourth Delaware, 
were the first line of battle, under Colonel 
Pattee. The One Hundred and Ninetieth was 
ordered forward to skirmish. We deployed 
in the woods, and waited for the completion 
of the arrangements going on in our rear. A 
few rods farther on there was open ground, 
which, in our front, gradually sloped down to 
woods. Opposite the left of the regiment, the 
open ground extended farther toward the north 
and west, and on that side was a slight hol- 
low, with rough, broken ground beyond. 
Rebel skirmishers were in the woods in our 
front, now exchanging shots with cavalry in 
the open ground near us. Our skirmish-line 
was ready for business in a few minutes ; but 
it was some time before the divisions were 
formed, in readiness for the assault. 

If you should attempt to form an idea of 
that thin line of waiting men, who were to 
lead the way in the decisive struggle, which 
all knew was at hand, the mental picture would 
probably differ widely from the reality. Cast 



Waiting. 



191 



your eye to the left, along the line. You can 
see a goodly distance. The wood is not very 
dense. That does not look much like ' ' battle's 
magnificently stern array." There is nothing 
magnificent or stern about it. You expected 
something of a scene. There is nothing of 
the sort. Instead, these men surprise you by 
their quiet bearing and seeming indifference. 
Most of them are young men. A few days 
ago they were so neat and tidy in dress and 
appearance, you might almost mistake that 
they were college students playing soldier. 
Now they are dirty, smeared with mud, half 
wet still from the rain, which only ceased this 
morning. Some are seated, leaning against 
the trees, taking it easy, conversing as pleas- 
antly as if these were the ordinary occurrences 
of life. That bright-faced fellow, of Company 
E, is diligently polishing a little rusty spot, 
which he has discovered on his gun barrel. 
If there is time, he will scrape the mud from 
his shoes, and from his pants, which are stiff 
with it, almost to the knees. A few are nerv- 
ous and anxious, but most of the really faint- 
hearted took advantage of the hard march 
last night to secure absence to-day. Dunn is 
on hand, — he that took himself from the field 



192 In the Ranks. 

yesterday with such agility, at the beginning 
of the fight, and gave such comical reasons 
for his unceremonious flight, when he came 
up in the evening. R is in the line, look- 
ing black, silent, and still troubled in his 
knees. Do these careless men realize that 
they are about to decide the fate of a great 
nation? Perhaps they are unconscious of the 
greatness of the present hour; but what of 
that? They stood in their lot. 

But our waiting is over at last ; and, at the 
word of command, every soldier is in his 
place. These men were not stolid, ignorant, 
nor inexperienced. Their thinned ranks show 
how well they know what battle means. You 
can see some pale faces, and lips compressed, 
as " forward" passes down the line. We 
pass out of the woods into the open field. 
A few rods ahead, some mounted cavalrymen 
are firing toward the woods, which conceal 
the enemy. We can see a puff of smoke 
here and there among the trees. A little 
farther, and the cavalry gallop away to the 
right, and bullets begin to whistle past, some 
over, some tossing up the dirt at our feet. It 
would be a waste of powder to return the fire 
at this distance; besides, we are going down 



The Sublime. 193 

there. But the bullets begin to come closer. 
The}- are fairly hot as they hiss around us. 
We quicken our pace. It is five hundred 
yards to the woods. The men on our left 
open fire — four hundred yards, three, the line 
slackens a little, and a volley, and another, 
and another, bursts in quick succession from 
our Spencer rifles. Then a cheer, as we dash 
for the woods at headlong speed, yelling and 
firing as we go. The rebel skirmishers give 
way before our charge, and the woods are 
gained. 

Up to this time I had not looked back. I 
supposed we had advanced about a thousand 
yards, and would soon encounter the main 
force of the enemy. As we reached the 
woods, I turned to see if the line of battle 
was yet in sight. My eyes fell upon the 
most stirring scene I ever witnessed. This 
was the grandeur, the sublimity of war. The 
corps was coming in order of battle, line after 
line sweeping on with steady step. Their front 
extended nearly a mile across the open ground, 
guns at a right-shoulder, glittering in the sun- 
light like silver, battle-flags fluttering in the 
air. In front, the skirmishers were fighting 
savagely; on the left a score of cannon were 
'3 



194 In the Ranks. 

thundering, shells screaming out their horrid 
warning, as they leaped from the smoking guns. 
But this living avalanche swept on in stern 
silence, as if there breathed within it a great 
soul, which scorned to speak or strike but once. 
A single glance took in the inspiring scene. 
I gazed but a moment, and then hurried into 
the woods. 

The ground here consisted of alternate 
ridges and depressions, covered with trees 
and bushes, with occasional open places. It 
was hard ground to fight over, every ridge 
serving as a rallying point, and affording a 
superior position for defense. Our advance 
was now a succession of charges. When the 
rebels were driven from one ridge, they rallied 
at the next. A short distance from the edge 
of the woods, where we first encountered 
them, was a little brook, running nearly east; 
along its banks were some large rocks, while 
a (qw rods nearer were piles of wood, logs, 
and other means of shelter. Quite a large 
group of rebels made a stand here. Sergeant 
Hasler, Crocket, one or two others and my- 
self, centered our attention on these, and ad- 
vanced upon them, at first taking what cover 
we could among the trees, firing rapidly as we 



Prisoners. 195 

went. As we were pressing forward, my foot 
tripped on something, aud I came to the 
ground with stunning force. Crocket, who 
was a few yards to my right, hurried toward 
me, his face the very picture of anxious sym- 
pathy, and inquired if I was struck. Recov- 
ering my breath, in a moment I was on my 
feet again, and assured him I was all right. 

We now rushed on them with a cheer, and 
they broke and fled. We were so close on 
them, that seven of their number took refuge 
behind a large rock, while three or four more 
fled across the brook, leaving one of their 
number wounded on its bank. The men be- 
hind the rock now waved hats past it in token 
of surrender, and soon they were marching 
toward the rear in charge of Crocket. The 
wounded rebel whom I had seen fall, lay 
about a rod to the left, shot through the 
thigh. I gave him a drink, filled my canteen, 
and went on. 

We had now become scattered, and made 
our way onward without much regard to order 
or concert of action. For a while the two 
lines were mingled together in the under- 
brush, so that you scarcely knew which way 
to look for friend or foe. Sometimes I was 



196 In the Ranks. 

with others, and again entirely alone. The 
woods resounded with the yells of the com- 
batants and the crack of rifles, as the deadly 
fight raged along the line. 

Passing through the corner of an open 
field, I noticed some rebels eight or ten hun- 
dred yards to the left and front in such a po- 
sition that I could give them a flank fire, 
while just a short distance from me in the 
field was a stone pile. The temptation was 
too strong to be resisted. I repaired to the 
stone pile and opened on them. At the first 
shot they looked to see whence it came ; the 
next, they dodged, and hugged close to their 
rifle-pit, and then discovering me, they re- 
turned the fire. Their first shots went wild, 
but they soon got the range, and began to 
strike the stone pile. I gave them a few 
parting shots from my Spencer, and went on 
into the woods. 

The skirmishing continued at close range, 
as before. The rebels fought stubbornly from 
point to point. Their works seemed farther 
off than we expected, but the crisis must come 
soon. We had just passed over a ridge, and 
the rebels had made a stand among the tim- 
ber beyond. A slight depression lay between 



A Prisoner. 197 

us, down which a gully had been washed by 
the water. None of our men were in sight, 
but I could hear their firing in the brush, 
right and left. 

Wishing to gain the timber beyond the 
gully, I started forward without waiting to 
recharge my rifle, which I had just fired. The 
trees which I wished to gain were not more 
than forty feet away, and the gully about half 
that distance. I had gone but a step or two 
when a rebel soldier rose to his feet in the 
gully, facing me, with rifle in hand. It was 
a groundhog case. As he rose, I rushed at 
him, aiming at his heart and calling on him -to 
surrender. He instantly dropped his gun. 
It was all over in less time than it takes to 
pen this sentence. His gun was loaded and 
capped. We waited till the line of battle 
came up. As they pushed through the brush 
behind us, seeing a rebel soldier, a dozen 
rifles were leveled on us ; but they saw how 
it was in time to withhold their fire. Leav- 
ing my prisoner with them, I started forward 
again. 

We soon reached an abrupt rise of ground 
beyond which we could not advance. Before 
us was the left of the enemy's intrenched po- 



198 In the Ranks. 

sition. We had done our work. We had 
driven every thing before us, and others must 
face the storm now. Some kneeling, others 
lying flat on the ground, we continued to fire 
and waited for the line of battle. In a few 
minutes we could see them coming on through 
the woods. A short distance behind us was 
a small patch of swampy, boggy ground. As 
this was approached orders were given and 
executed as coolly as if on the parade ground. 
The portion of the line opposite the swamp 
folded back of the other toward the left, and 
when the ground was passed, went back to 
place again without the least delay or con- 
fusion. 

As they moved up the bank upon which 
we were, a volley burst upon them before 
which they wavered and swerved backward a 
few paces, as here and there a man reeled 
and staggered or sank to the earth. There 
was no panic — not a back turned — only that 
instinctive shrinking which Life sometimes 
feels when Death unexpectedly thrusts out 
his ghastly face through the smoke of battle. 
A color-bearer sprang forward with the battle- 
flag. He halted beside me and rested the 
end of the flag-staff on the ground. He half- 



"The Left Wheel." 199 

faced about toward the men. His voice rang 
out like a bugle blast, as he raised his arm 
and shouted : 

" Here are your colors!" 

The line responded with a yell as it sprang 
forward, and soon was wrapped in the sulphur- 
ous smoke of its volleys which it thundered 
against the foe. 

As the line moved on, I stepped behind 
them and passed farther to the right, and 
again went out ahead. The "left wheel" 
which the corps made in this battle resulted 
naturally from the position of the forces en- 
gaged. If we had moved directly forward in 
the direction in which we started, only the 
left of the Second Division would have struck 
the rebel's works ; but the men posted in 
their front, as they were forced back, retreated 
toward the north-west, and we naturally swung 
around in following them. 

We were now in front of the Third Divi- 
sion, the rebels still contesting every foot of 
ground. We finally drove them across an 
open field about a hundred yards wide. A 
road was on our left; at least all the Bucktails 
in sight were on the right of the road. A 
house stood near the road next to the woods, 



200 In the Ranks. 

out of which we had driven the rebels, who 
were now firing from the farther side of the 
field. We were crossing the field, and some 
had reached the woods beyond, when the line 
of battle came up by the house behind us 
and opened fire. We hurried back to escape 
their bullets, which we considered more dan- 
gerous than those of the enemy. I stood 
behind them near the house, watching their 
firing, very much disgusted with the perform- 
ance. There was a young lady in the house, 
apparently the only occupant. She was almost 
wild with fright, and gave vent to her feelings 
in screams and cries of terror. 

A little lieutenant was prancing around 
back of the line, flourishing his saber in gal- 
lant style. He accosted me, and demanded 
why I was standing back, doing nothing. I 
replied that I did not belong on his — line, 
and made some comments perhaps not strictly 
polite. This added wrath to his excitement. 
I think this must have been the first time he 
had smelled gunpowder, except at a distance, 
and he supposed they were doing grandly. 
There was no telling how much effort it had 
cost him to get his courage screwed up suffi- 
ciently to bring him thus far ; and to have this 



"We've Got Them!" 201 

dirty, mud-bedraggled scrub of a boy intimate 
that the whole outfit should be furnished with 
long ears, was too much. As Homer would 
say, "his diaphragm became black all over." 
At this point Captain Birkman appeared on 
the scene and announced that he was respon- 
sible for me. This ended the matter. 

After firing awhile, this brigade started to 
advance across the field. The regiment on 
the left moved up in good order as far as the 
edge of the woods. The others straggled for- 
ward in disorder. Both officers and men 
seemed to be confused. By the time they 
reached the woods they were little better than 
a mob, and had to halt to re-form. I think 
the man in command of the brigade was re- 
sponsible for this. I now started out to skir- 
mish again, intending to keep in front of the 
regiment on the left. As I reached the point 
where the road entered the woods, I met 
Mike Coleman coming on a run, and greatly 
excited. 

"Why, Mike, I thought you were kilt! 
I heard you were shot in the head back 
yonder." 

Scarcely pausing for a reply, he went on : 

"We 've got them! we 've got them! 



202 In the Ranks. 

We 're right in their rear. We '11 take them 
all ! Why do n't these men come on?" 

With this he hurried back to the men just 
behind us, and in a breath told them the sit- 
uation, and urged them to come on without 
delay. To his great disgust, his appeals were 
unheeded, and he turned to me saying we 
would go alone. But now we saw some of 
the Bucktails coming forward, and soon about 
twenty of us were deployed at skirmish dis- 
tance, advancing on the rebel rear. Their 
line could be seen stretching far to right and 
left. Our Spencers rattled among the trees 
as we rained the bullets upon them. They 
turned on us savagely, and their rifles blazed 
and flashed in reply. Presently their fire 
slackened. They right-faced, and began to 
move off toward the west, at first with some 
order ; but soon they were only a panic- 
stricken mob, fleeing in all directions, some to 
the right, some' to the left, others toward us. 
The latter we disarmed and sent to the rear 
without any guard, and kept up a fire on 
those who were running to the right. They 
threw down their guns by hundreds, and sur- 
rendered. 

Toward the close a rebel soldier came 



Face to Face. 203 

toward me at full speed, with his gun at a 
trail-arms. I did not notice him until he was 
within twenty-five or thirty yards of me. I 
yelled at him to surrender ; but he came on 
without checking his speed. I stepped from 
the tree by which I was standing, and leveled 
my rifle on him. 

"Drop that gun!" I yelled again. 

He dropped it as if it had burned him, 
and hustled off his accouterments, and threw 
them on the ground. I made him stay with 
me, intending to take him back myself. My 
cartridges were about exhausted, and I fired 
all but one or two at the rear of the fleeing 
rebels, and started back with the prisoner. 

The sun had now gone down. The moon 
was shining peacefully. How quickly those 
fateful hours of battle had passed ! I started 
for the point where our line had formed, ex- 
pecting to dispose of my prisoner there, and 
then sleep all night. As we passed along, 
the dead lay scattered here and there as they 
fell. There was something startlingly solemn 
in those motionless forms, the stony eyes 
staring in the moonlight. 

Beyond the church I found a large number 
of prisoners, and turned over my man to the 



204 In the Ranks. 

guards, and started to return. I was joined 
by L. C. Walb, who had also been back with 
prisoners. The church had been turned into 
a hospital. It was full of wounded, and many 
were laid on the ground outside. A few rods 
past the church we lay down to sleep. There 
came a reaction after the excitement of the 
day. Nerves, strained to their utmost tension 
for hours, relaxed, and seemed to tingle with 
the pain of weariness. The jarring noises of 
battle were reproduced as the senses glided 
through that strange interval between waking 
and sleeping, and more than once I came back 
to consciousness with a start, scarcely able, 
for a moment, to distinguish the real and the 
unreal. A low, moaning sound came from 
the hundreds of wounded about the church ; 
not any single groan or cry of pain, but only 
a sound as if the hurried breath from suffering 
lips smote upon the strings of an unseen harp, 
which sounded out its sad cadences through 
the air. But at last I sunk into a sound 
sleep. 

Our losses were less severe than on the 
preceding day. Eight hundred and thirty- 
four were killed and wounded, and fifty-four 
were missing. The opposing force of the 



A Decisive Battle. 205 

enemy was practically annihilated. Three 
thousand were killed and wounded, and five 
thousand five hundred were made prisoners. 
Eleven stand of colors were taken, and four 
guns, with their caissons ; also wagons and 
other material. 

Captain Birkman, of Company A, says of 
this battle, in an extract kindly furnished from 
his diary : " The most successful attack I ever 
witnessed." It was a decisive battle, and set- 
tled the fate of the Confederacy. Since leav- 
ing camp on the morning of March 29th, 
three days before, the Fifth Corps had lost 
nearly one-fourth of its number in battles. 

In this engagement the direct assault was 
made by the Second Division, the other divis- 
ions swinging around on the enemy's left flank 
and rear. The Third Brigade first struck, and 
broke through the rebel works. Sergeant 
Huck, with the colors of the One Hundred 
and Ninety-first, was the first man across the 
rebel rifle-pits. Colonel Pattee, commanding 
the first line, was the first mounted officer 
across, and leaped his horse over the breast- 
work while the foremost of the assailants 
were crowding over. They found themselves 
in the midst of the panic-stricken rebels, who 



2o6 In the Ranks. 

threw down their arms and surrendered in 
large numbers. The Maryland brigade struck 
the rebel position almost at the same time, 
and with like results. The division then 
passed on down along the rear of the rebel 
position, doubling them up rapidly, and driv- 
ing them in confusion. 

We have read how the infantry faltered, 
till General Sheridan led them to the charge. 
We venture the opinion that this is wholly 
imaginary. These two brigades moved upon 
the rebel works as steadily and swiftly as the 
nature of the ground would allow. General 
Sheridan's reputation does not need any arti- 
ficial bolstering, least of all at the expense of 
deserving men and officers. 

The arbitrary removal of General Warren 
from the command of the Fifth Corps was 
unknown to the soldiers until the following 
morning. We heard only expressions of sur- 
prise and disapproval. It must be a cause of 
regret to all fair-minded men, that he was not 
allowed to share in this grand success with the 
men whom he had so long commanded. He 
was held in high esteem by the private sol- 
diers, who regarded him as a brave and skill- 
ful officer. 



In Front of Petersburg. 207 



Chapter XIX. 

THE battle of Five Forks was fought on 
Saturday. Sabbath morning the sun rose 
bright and clear. When we camped the night 
before, Walb and myself planned for a substan- 
tial night's rest. For the first time since 
breaking camp, on the night of March 28th, 
we unpacked our blankets and made a bed. 
It was after sunrise when we awoke. Far to 
the right we could hear the low grumble of 
artillery, sounding like the roar of distant 
thunder. Since four o'clock in the morning 
a great battle had been raging in front of 
Petersburg, from the Appomattox on the 
right, to Hatcher's Run on the left. 

Without waiting for breakfast, we went on 
to find the regiment. They were camped not 
far from where the roads crossed which formed 
the famous " Forks. " At an early hour we 
were in motion, toward the right, where heavy 
and continuous firing could be distinctly heard. 
We passed by the ground where we had fought 
the evening before. The rebel dead were 



208 In the Ranks. 

strewn far and near, like sheaves of grain in a 
harvest-field, showing how destructive had been 
our fire. The One Hundred and Ninetieth 
was deployed on the flank, and moved paral- 
lel to the column, at skirmish distance, about 
two hundred yards from it. 

After marching for some time in the direc- 
tion of Petersburg, we bore to the left, and 
about noon we reached the South Side Rail- 
road, near Southerland's Station, and marched 
some distance along it. Beyond the road we 
found strong rifle-pits, which the enemy had 
abandoned. During the day news reached us 
that the works in front of Petersburg had 
been taken, and there was general rejoicing. 
That night we bivouaced near the Appomat- 
tox River. 

April 3d we moved, at eight in the morn- 
ing. Some firing was heard on our left, and 
many prisoners met us as we marched along. 
We found cannon abandoned in the road, and 
there was evidence on every hand that the 
rebels were hard pressed. Our general course 
was along what is called the river road, though 
we did not follow it all the time. Our move- 
ments and progress had to be governed by the 
supposed movements of the enemy. At one 



Lee's Mistake. 



209 



time we were deployed as skirmishers, and 
went down to the river. I do not know the rea- 
son of this precaution, but no enemy was 
found. We camped that night along the road. 
April 4th we resumed the march, soon 
after sunrise. We were short of provisions, 
and foragers were sent out to secure what 
could be gathered from the country. I was 
out in the afternoon. While returning in the 
evening, after sun-down, I was shot at by some 
one, when quite near the column. That night 
we reached the Danville Railroad, near Jet- 
tersville, and camped in order of battle, about 
three miles from Lee's army. For this rea- 
son no fires were made. We had been thrown 
between him and Danville, which he was aim- 
ing to reach. Here Lee made a mistake. It 
was his duty to know of our presence here 
during the night. He should have attacked 
us promptly by daylight on the following 
morning ; and, if possible, overwhelmed us 
before the rest of the army could arrive. 
There was little if any force confronting him, 
except the Fifth Corps, not more than twelve 
thousand men. I think we reached Jetters- 
ville in advance of the main body of the 
cavalry. 

14 



210 In The Ranks. 

The morning of the 5th found us in- 
trenched, and expecting an attack from the 
enemy. Rebel troops could be seen in the 
distance, and we supposed they were forming 
for battle. We stood behind the works wait- 
ing. Their skirmishers advanced and opened 
fire on our outposts. Hour after hour passed. 
At length the Second and Sixth corps arrived, 
and Lee's opportunity was lost. 

April 6th we advanced, at first with some 
caution. But Lee was in full retreat toward 
Lynchburg, and we followed. During the 
day, a body of rebel cavalry made a dash at 
the wagon train, and we were ordered back to 
drive them off. We went back about three 
miles at double-quick. We met quite a num- 
ber of men who had been skulking with the 
train, now rushing for the front at full speed. 
As we witnessed their consternation, we were 
entirely reconciled to the loss of a few wagons, 
just to see the "coffee brigade" shaken up. 
The rebels had been repulsed by our cavalry 
before we reached the scene. We remained 
with the train, and camped with it during the 
night. We marched twenty-nine miles, and 
arrived within five miles of High Bridge. 

On the 7th we still remained with the train. 



"Fall in!" 211 

We passed a place where a rebel wagon train 
had been attacked by our cavalry. Ammuni- 
tion and stores of all kinds were strewn every- 
where. Wagon loads of shells had been emp- 
tied out, and lay scattered through the woods. 

Some time during the day, we had halted 
by the road, and, as our rest was quite pro- 
longed, some of the men had fallen asleep. 
Among others, Captain Birkman was sleeping 
soundly, perhaps dreaming of the peace that 
was now almost conquered. The woods were 
burning, a few rods on our right. The fire at 
last reached a lot of shells, which had been 
thrown from the wagons, to keep them from 
falling into the hands of the Yankees. They 
went off with a frightful clatter. The captain 
bounced from the ground as if a hornet had 
lifted him. "Fall in!" he shouted, grasp- 
ing his sword. Of course, all who were awake 
comprehended the situation, and prudently lay 
still, to avoid the flying fragments. As the 
truth dawned upon him, the captain at first 
looked "sold" and disgusted, and then joined 
in the general laughter. 

We halted that night near Prince Edward's 
Court-house, after a march of eighteen miles. 
Here we rejoined the brigade. 



212 In the Ranks. 

April 8th we made the most trying march 
of all. We lost some time by going out of 
the way, and made frequent halts during the 
forenoon, as if uncertain of the direction, or 
suspicious of the movement of the enemy. 
About noon we reached Prospect Station, 
thirteen miles from Farmville. In the after- 
noon we settled down to hard marching. We 
did not halt for supper. The sun went down, 
night came on, and still we marched on. By 
nine o'clock conversation had ceased — no 
breath could be wasted in words. Even 
"Sport" could no longer muster spirit to 
crack a joke on any body. You could only 
hear the "tramp, tramp" of feet, and the 
occasional clatter of a saber. But there was 
no grumbling. We knew this was the last 
forced march. One more blow, and treason 
would be crushed in the dust. As the col- 
umn, from time to time, became clogged by 
some obstruction ahead, and halted for a mo- 
ment, the men would sink down on the 
ground, most of them just where they stopped, 
to catch brief rest for their aching limbs. At 
such times I would be sound asleep in a mo- 
ment, and more than once the column was 
marching on and myself with it whenJ awoke. 



The Last Day. 213 

Midnight came, and still we pressed on 
relentlessly. About one in the morning we 
saw lights ahead, which indicated that a halt 
had been made. Never ■ did rest and sleep 
seem sweeter, nor a mile seem longer. It re- 
quired a distinct effort of the will to compel 
each single step. But at last the task was 
accomplished. We had marched forty- two 
miles since sunrise, and lay within striking 
distance of the enemy. 

The company was represented by Dunn, 
Bovard, Mike Coleman, Sergeant Hasler, and 
myself. The rest had broken down under the 
terrible strain and fallen behind. Without 
removing any thing, I threw myself on the 
ground, and knew no more until I was aroused 
at daylight to go on. 

Just after sunrise we halted — for breakfast, 
they said. It was rather a grim sort of a joke. 
Scarcely one in fifty had any thing to eat. A 
few had coffee, and fires were made, and we 
went through the regulation motions of get- 
ting breakfast. This done, we started on 
again. 

It soon became evident that the enemy 
had been brought to bay. The confused 
noise of battle rang through the air. We had 



214 In the Ranks. 

halted In the woods, and stood in the road 
waiting, sure that the end had come. 

Colonel Pattee was on his horse, half faced 
about toward his men, evidently impatient 
and eager. An aid gallops up with orders. 
Colonel Pattee looks happy. He gives his 
old horse an extra jerk : 

"Forward! Double Quick! March!" 

On we go toward the scene of conflict. 

Again Colonel Pattee's voice rings out: 
"Deploy Skirmishers!" and in less than a 
minute a line of Bucktails stretches through 
the woods, facing the enemy. There is no 
waiting. "Forward!" passes down the line, 
and we move out into the open field in front. 
A hundred yards ahead the cavalry are stub- 
bornly facing a heavy force of rebel infantry 
that is crowding on them and steadily pushing 
them back. Now and then a man falls from 
his horse or rides back wounded. We were 
on lower ground than they, and the bullets 
whistled above us; but as we went up the 
rising ground, they began to hiss around out- 
heads. We double-quicked forward and began 
firing. 

Between us and the town there was a hol- 
low, and on the farther ridge a road led down 



The Last Battle. 215 

through the village. There was a wood on 
the left at the head of the hollow, and on the 
right a narrow strip of timber ran up to 
within two hundred yards of the road. The 
right of the regiment extended past the 
woods, or rather only a small portion of the 
left would strike them in moving straight for- 
ward. As we came to the ridge overlooking 
the hollow, we saw the rebel troops drawn up 
on the opposite slope. Soon they gave way 
and moved off toward the town out of sight, 
and a battery from the ridge opened with 
shell. 

As soon as the battery opened fire, Rob- 
bins, myself, and two or three others started 
toward it. A rail fence ran along the hollow 
proper on the side next to us. As we neared 
the fence, Robbins, who was a few steps in 
advance, stopped. 

"We had better stay here," he said, as he 
deliberately aimed at the battery. 

"There are rebels in the woods there," 
meaning on the left. As he spoke, a bullet 
from the left clipped close over his gun barrel. 

"See that!" he added, his aim not in the 
least disturbed. The gunners were shooting 
over us, as Ave supposed, at the line of battle 



2i6 In the Ranks. 

farther back. But we had only fired a few 
shots when a shell burst in front of us, its 
fragments scattering dirt, fence rails, and 
splinters for yards around. 

"Well! I think we'll go on," said Rob- 
bins. On we went to the farther side of the 
hollow, and under shelter of the bank, we 
kept up our fire with good effect. We would 
dodge their shells as they fired, and then rise 
and fire till they were ready again. Some 
riflemen in the vicinity of the battery gave us 
trouble, but failed to hit any of us. 

After this had continued for some time, the 
One Hundred and Fifty-fifth Pennsylvania, a 
Zouave regiment, came down behind us on 
a double-quick, deployed as skirmishers. As 
they neared the fence a shell from the bat- 
tery screamed over our heads, and exploding, 
killed one of their men. They heeded this 
no more than if it had not occurred, and 
came on with a cheer. Giving a parting shot 
to the battery which was now pulling out, we 
started on, bearing to the right toward the 
town. As we neared the point of the strip 
of woods on our right, Ginter, of Company E, 
stopped and sat down flat on the ground, re- 
marking that it was getting mighty hot. I 



The Last Ditch. 217 

was of the same opinion, and baited a few 
feet in advance of him and fired a few shots 
in a kneeling posture. While thus engaged, 
I heard the sound of a blow behind me, and 
looking around, I saw Ginter tumbling on the 
ground, his heels in the air. He quickly 
gathered himself up to a sitting posture with 
a very rueful countenance, giving vent to his 
feelings in sundry expletives, as soon as he 
could get breath enough to deliver them prop- 
erly. With many a doleful grunt he exam- 
ined the extent of his injuries. A bullet had 
struck the belt of his cartridge-box, nearly 
over the heart. The ball had force enough 
almost to pierce the leather belt and severely 
bruise the chest, raising a lump half as large 
as a hen's egg t and very painful. Some fel- 
low off to the left had reached for us, and 
well-nigh finished Ginter. He did not go to 
the rear, but kept on, holding his clothing 
from the painful bruise, too much engaged in 
this to do any more shooting. 

A few minutes later, a rebel officer gal- 
loped along the line with a white flag. We 
were almost to the road at this time, at the 
outskirts of the town. We did not think of 
continuing the fight any longer, but some 



2i8 In the Ranks. 

rebel soldiers on the left past the town, fired 
on ns when we exposed ourselves, and we 
returned the treacherous fire, and advanced 
across the road. By the road, facing us as 
we approached, stood a negro cabin, out of 
which a rebel officer came as we reached it. 
A few words were exchanged between him 
and Adjutant Wright, and I think he was 
allowed to go down the road to where the 
main body of the rebel troops had halted. 
Our fire continuing, Colonel Pattee rode up 
to us, excitedly, to learn what it meant. Ad- 
jutant Wright explained that rebel skirmishers 
were still firing at us. 

"Have this firing stopped at once," he 
said ; and seeing a protest in Wright's face, 
he went on: "I tell you, you're excited, 
adjutant, and the men are excited. They've 
surrendered, and this must cease." 

"Excited!" was the reply. "If they 
want to surrender, let them cease firing." 

At this moment a bullet whizzed past the 
colonel's head, and killed a cavalry man on 
the bank beyond him. He rode ofT to the 
right, and left us to manage it to suit our- 
selves. In a little while the firing from both 
sides ceased. The Army of the Potomac had 



Forward. 219 

accomplished its mission. We had fought our 
last battle. The One Hundred and Ninetieth 
and One Hundred and Ninety-first had proved 
themselves, to the last hour, worthy success- 
ors of the Pennsylvania Reserves. 

The preceding narrative will be better un- 
derstood by a fuller statement of the part 
taken by the entire regiment in the engage- 
ment. The original intention was for Colonel 
Pattee to connect the right of his command 
with the First Division and the left with the 
command of General Ord. On reaching the 
front, he discovered that the cavalry were 
hard pressed, and would soon be dislodged 
from the woods, which would have to be re- 
gained at great disadvantage, and perhaps se- 
rious loss. He, therefore, ordered the regi- 
ment forward to their relief. Advancing rap- 
idly, they relieved the cavalry and engaged 
the enemy before the troops on either flank 
were in position. Colonel Pattee now found 
his skirmish line confronting heavy lines of 
battle, and back of these, on the ridge near 
the village, in position to sweep all the open 
ground in front, Lee's artillery was massed. 
He at once thinned the exposed center and 
right of his line, strengthened the left, and 



220 In the Ranks. 

charged boldly forward upon the enemy, 
throwing his left around upon their flank. 
Meantime the right pressed rapidly on, and 
engaged the rebel infantry in the open ground, 
and, later, the artillery on the ridge. Their 
infantry was routed, and driven back over the 
ridge, where their officers tried in vain to rally 
and lead them forward. Their artillery re- 
sisted with desperation until their commander 
was killed. By this time many of their horses 
had been shot, and they tried to drag the 
guns away by hand. But now the left of the 
regiment, under Colonel Pattee, came charging 
down on their right flank, bursting upon them 
like a tornado; and literally mingled together, 
almost fighting hand to hand, they went pell- 
mell toward the village. Here the flag of 
truce met them, and soon hostilities ceased. 
Rarely has a more brilliant and successful at- 
tack been executed in modern warfare, and it 
reflects the highest credit upon Colonel Pattee 
and his command. Rebel officers who wit- 
nessed it spoke in the highest terms of the 
splendid and reckless courage with which this 
skirmish line dashed upon the heavy masses 
of the enemy. 

The death of the cavalryman, to which 



The Last Killed. 221 

reference has been made, was a cause of great 
regret to all who witnessed it. He was a 
brave young man. When relieved by the 
Bucktails, he might have retired from the field 
with honor, as did most of the command to 
which he belonged. He preferred, however, 
to remain. Falling in with Colonel Pattee, 
he fought by his side during all the engage- 
ment, charged with him in the last deadly on- 
set, and escaped unharmed, to fall by the 
bullet of a cowardly truce-breaker. 

Lieutenant Hayden, of the One Hundred 
and Ninety-first, a brave young officer, for- 
merly of the Eleventh Reserves, lost a leg in 
this battle. It seemed hard to suffer death or 
maiming in this, the last hour, let us hope, 
that the nation will know of civil strife ; but 
let us honor the men who were thus faithful 
to the end. 



222 In the Ranks. 



Chapter XX. 

GENERALS GRANT, Meade, Ord, and 
others came down the road to the vil- 
lage. General Lee and his associates came in 
the opposite direction. They met at a house 
about two hundred yards from us, in full view 
of the place where we stood. Here the sur- 
render was completed. 

Twenty-six thousand men were surren- 
dered. Besides those who had straggled and 
scattered through the country, or willfully de- 
serted, Lee had lost in battle, since March 
29th, 25,750 men. Both armies were much 
exhausted, and if Lee could have shaken off 
the clutch of Sheridan, and continued his re- 
treat to Lynchburg, Grant would have been 
compelled to abandon the pursuit within three 
days, from lack of food for his army. 

As soon as a few wagons came up with 
provisions, rations were issued to both armies ; 
but there was not a sufficient supply. We 
remained on the skirmish line till the 10th, 
when we returned to the brigade. Several 



Homeward Bound. 223 

days of wet weather followed, and the wagon- 
trains could not be brought up. On the 15th 
we began the homeward march with empty 
haversacks. 

We camped that night at Pamplin's Sta- 
tion. In the evening George Dunn stole a 
couple of the meanest, most diminutive, runty 
little hams you ever saw. I helped him eat 
them, and am willing to bear a fair share of 
the blame ; but a country that can produce 
such hams needs reconstruction. On the 16th 
we reached Farmville. The next day we 
camped eight miles from Burksville. At the 
latter place we rested a few days, before re- 
suming the march to Washington. Here the 
news first reached us of Lincoln's assassina- 
tion. A number of men, who had been taken 
prisoners during 1864, rejoined us. 

I was at headquarters one evening, for some 
purpose, when a soldier accosted me and in- 
quired for the One Hundred and Ninetieth. 
He was ragged, thin, and pale. His hair and 
beard were of long growth. Looking into his 
haggard face and sunken eyes, there was not 
an outline I could recognize. 

''The One Hundred and Ninetieth is right 
here. I belong to it." 



224 In the Ranks. 

"Are there any of Company D of the 
Eleventh Reserves here?" 

"Yes; I belonged to Company D." 

"You did!" 

He leaned toward me, looked intently a 
moment, then reached out his hand. 

"Why, Mac; I 'm glad to find you." 

As his face brightened I recognized him. 
It was Wm. Kenedy, of the old company. 
He was made prisoner May 5 th, in the Wil- 
derness. He had escaped from prison, and 
made his way through the country to our 
lines, traveling by night, hiding by day, fed 
by the slaves, nursed by them through a fever 
contracted in the swamps. Rest, food, and 
clean clothes soon made him look like him- 
self again. 

But my narrative must hasten to a close. 
We resumed the march, passed through Peters- 
burg, Richmond, Fredericksburg, and camped 
at last on Arlington Heights. We participated 
in the grand review. It was something of 
more than ordinary interest, to see and com- 
pare the two great armies. Most of Sher- 
man's army had but just arrived, and were 
dusty and travel-worn ; while the army of the 
Potomac had been resting for some time, and 



Mustered Out. 225 

looked fresher and more sprightly. The latter 
wore caps, and the former hats, which gave 
them a more somber appearance. I was also 
of the impression that there were more young 
men in our army than in Sherman's. 

June 28th we were mustered out, and 
started the next day for Harrisburg, where 
we were discharged, July 2d. 

The report of the Adjutant-general of Penn- 
sylvania gives these two regiments, the One 
Hundred and Ninetieth and One Hundred and 
Ninety-first, no credit for active service subse- 
quent to the battle of Welden Railroad, August, 
1864. At this time, Colonel Carle, of the One 
Hundred and Ninety-first, and Colonel Harts- 
horn, of the One Hundred and Ninetieth, 
were made prisoners, with the greater part of 
their respective commands, and remained in 
captivity till after the cessation of hostilities. 
The remainder of the two regiments acted to- 
gether as one organization, under command 
of Colonel Pattee, as mentioned on page 118, 
until the close of the war. This was by far 
the longest and most brilliant period of their 
history ; but of this, the public records of the 
State make no mention. At the time of the 

muster out, Colonel Pattee was absent, and 
15 



226 



In the Ranks. 



the report of the One Hundred and Ninetieth 
was made out by, or under the supervision of, 
Colonel Hartshorn ; that of the One Hundred 
and Ninety-first by Colonel Carle. We sup- 
pose that these officers neglected to insert the 
names of the engagements which occurred 
while Colonel Pattee was in command. 

The following is a list of the battles in 
which the regiment took part : 

White Oak Swamp, . . f 190th, | Col j R Pattee# 

June 13, 1864, \ 191st, f J 

Petersburg, . . . f 190th, j C1 j B p&ttee> 

June 17, 1864, \ 191st, J J 

Weldon Railroad, . . f 190th, ) Col. W. R. Hartshorn. 

August 19, 1864, t 191st, J Col. Carle. 

The two colonels in command, with the greater part 

of their men, were made prisoners in this battle, after a 

heavy loss of killed and wounded. 

2D Weldon Railroad, f 190th, 1 n . . „. , , D v 

a «. „ T ,0^ \ ,~. * > Captain Birkman.f ?) 

August 21, 1864, t 191st, j y v ' 

Poplar Grove, . . 

September 29, 1864 

Hatcher's Run, . . 

October 27, 1864, 

Rowanty Creek, 

February 5, 1865, 
Hatcher's Run, . . 

February 6, 1865, 
Gravelly Run, . . 

March 31, 1865, 
Five Forks, .... 

April 1, 1865, 
Appomattox Court-house, 

April 9, 1865, 



{ 1 .^st'} C0l -J- B - Pattee - 



Major Birkman. 227 

MAJOR R. M. BIRKMAN. 

Major R. M. Birkman was born in St. 
Louis in April, 1837, and spent his childhood 
and early life in Harrisburg, Penn. He was 
in Philadelphia when the war was inaugurated 
by the firing on Fort Sumter, and at once en- 
listed in Company E, Eleventh Pennsylvania 
Reserves. He was made first sergeant, then 
commissioned second lieutenant, then pro- 
moted to first lieutenant, and after the reor- 
ganization, to captain of Company A, One 
Hundred and Ninetieth Pennsylvania. 

At the close of the war he received the 
rank of brevet major for meritorious service. 
The following extract shows the esteem in 
which he was held by the officers with whom 
he was associated. It is from a letter of 
Brevet Brigadier -general Gwyn, who com- 
manded the brigade in which he served during 
the latter part of the war : 

" Captain, it affords me pleasure to testify 
to your bravery, ability, and universal good 
conduct in the several bloody fights in which 
your regiment was engaged during the late 
campaign. In the camp, no less than in the 
field, your conduct bore testimony to your 



228 In the Ranks. 

worth. Sober, steady, and industrious, you 
set an example worth following." 

In the army, as elsewhere, he was the 
quiet, unassuming, conscientious gentleman, 
doing his duty. 

After the war, he returned to Blairsville, 
Penn., where he married Miss Mary L. Black, 
a most estimable lady of that city. He pur- 
chased the Blairsville Press, and continued to 
be editor and publisher of that paper till 1870. 
He then bought the Indiana Register and 
American, and merged the two papers into the 
Indiana Progress, which he published until the 
1st of March, 1880. His health had been 
gradually failing for three or four years previ- 
ous to this date ; but he continued to devote 
his attention to the work which he loved, 
until the advance of disease warned him that 
his work was done. He then "set his house 
in order," fearlessly committed himself to the 
God whom he had served and loved, and 
waited calmly for the last of earth. 

As death drew near, his mind went back 
over the scenes of camp and field, and he 
fought his battles o'er again. He died April 
24, 1880. For seven years previous to his 
death, he had been an active member of the 



General Pattee. 229 

Presbyterian Church, and proved himself an 
earnest, consistent Christian. 



BRIGADIER -GENERAL JOSEPH B. PATTEE. 

Brevet Brigadier - General Joseph B. 
Pattee is a native of Vermont. Of his life 
previous to the breaking out of the war we 
have no information. When the Pennsylvania 
Reserves were organized in 186 1, he was com- 
missioned first lieutenant Company B, of the 
Tenth. December 10, 1862, he was promoted 
to captain. At Bethesda Church, May 30, 
1864, he was wounded in the knee by a grape- 
shot. He continued on duty, however, al- 
though this wound troubled him for more 
than a year afterward. When the reorganiza- 
tion took place, he was commissioned lieuten- 
ant-colonel of the One Hundred and Ninetieth 
Pennsylvania. Colonel Hartshorn being ab- 
sent, he took command of the regiment. June 
17th, he was severely wounded during the as- 
sault on Petersburg. A rifle-ball struck him 
in the center of the chest, and came out under 
his arm. This wound compelled an absence 
of nearly three months. He returned Sep- 
tember 13th, although still suffering from this 



230 In the Ranks. 

wound and the one received in May. During 
his absence, Colonel Hartshorn and Colonel 
Carle, of the One Hundred and Ninety-first, 
returned, and took command of their respect- 
ive regiments. These officers, with the greater 
part, of their men, were made prisoners Au- 
gust 19th, and so remained until after the 
cessation of hostilities. 

The remainder of the two regiments, in- 
creased during the Fall by returning convales- 
cents, numbered about five hundred men. 
Colonel Pattee took command of these, and 
they acted together as one organization. To 
his care, skill, and courage they owe the 
brilliant record which they made during the 
rest of their history. At Gravelly Run his 
promptness and decision saved the Union 
forces from serious disaster. His gallant con- 
duct in leading the assault on the rebel in- 
trenchments at Five Forks is mentioned in the 
account of that battle. At Appomattox 
Court-house he was ordered forward with his 
regiment from the rear of the division, for the 
purpose of making that last dash against Lee, 
and compelling his surrender. For the prompt 
and skillful manner in which this attack was 
executed, he was highly complimented by the 



Muster - rolls. 23 1 

generals in command, and was brevetted brig- 
adier-general. 

Since the close of the war he has been in 
the West, and is now engaged in a land 
agency business at Canton, Dakota Territory. 



The following muster-rolls are obtained 
from the " History of the Pennsylvania Vol- 
unteers." The roll of Company C, One Hun- 
dred and Ninetieth, is defective in that work, 
and we have added a few names from mem- 
ory. The following abbreviations need ex- 
planation : M. A. C. D. C— Military Asylum 
Cemetery, District of Columbia; V. R. C.= 
Veteran Reserve Corps; N. C.= National 
Cemetery. The date which follows the name 
and rank of an officer, or the name of a pri- 
vate, indicates the date of enlistment. 

Company d, lltl| P. % V. C. 

Mustered Out June 13, 1864. 

S. Louden, Capt. ; June 10, '61 ; disc. sur. cer., Sept. 

26, '62. 
W. H. Timblin, Capt; June 10, '61; Brev. Maj.; 

wounded in Wilderness ; must, out with Co. 
Newton Redic, 1st Lt. ; June 10, '61 ; killed at Gaines' 

Mill, June 27, '62. 



232 In the Ranks. 

G. W. Fliger, 1st Lt; June 10, '6i ; pris. May 5, '64; 

disc. March 12, '65. 
J. C. Kuhn, 2d Lt. ; June 10, '6i ; died ot wounds, 

Sept. 17, '62. 
J. H. Sutton, 2d Lt. ; June 10, '61 ; disc, for wounds, 

July 3. '63. 
W. J. Halderman, 1st Sergt. ; Oct. 1, '6i ; trans. 190th, 

vet. 
G. W. Milford, Sergt. ; June 10, '6i ; disc. sur. cer., 

Jan. 20, '63. 
J. H. Christie, Sergt. ; June 10, '61 ; killed at Gaines' 

Mill, June 27, '62. 
G. A. Black, Sergt. ; June 10, '61 ; must, out with Co. 
J. T. Kelly, 

G. W. Eby, " " " " " 

M. Heckart, 
W. Prior, Sergt.; June 10, '61 ; pris. May 5, '64; died 

at Andersonville, Nov. 28, '64; grave 12,191. 
Hiram Black, Corp. ; June 10, '61 ; died of wounds, 

Dec. 18, '62. 
J. W. Campbell, Corp. , June 10, '61 ; must, out with Co. 
S. Cook, " " " disc, on sur. cer. 

J. H. Meeder, " June 23, '6i ; " " 
R. S. Harper, Corp.; Feb. 24, '62; trans. 190th; disc. 

Feb. 24, '62. 
J. S. Campbell, Corp. ; June 10, '61 ; pris. May 5, '64; 

disc. Dec. 22, '64. 
R. S. Ray, Corp.; June 10, '61 ; must, out with Co. 
W. P. Black, " 

J. M. Varnum, mus., " " " " 

J. Heckart, " June 23, '61 ; " 



Muster - rolls. 233 



PRIVATES. 

Allen, D. S. ; June 10, '61 ; must, out with Company. 
Adams, H. C. ; Oct. 1, '61 ; disc. sur. cer., June 30, '62. 
Anderson, R. M. ; Mar. 4, '62 ; " " June 24, '62. 
Birch, D.; June 10, '61 ; must, out with Company. 
Black, T. R. ; June 10, '61 ; pris. May 5, '64; disc. Dec. 

12, '64. 
Bell, S. M. ; June 10, '61 ; disc, for wounds, May 20, '63. 
Brandon, Henry ; June 10, '61 ; disc, for wounds, Oct. 

10, '62. 

Beatty, S. R. ; June 10, '61 ; disc, for wounds rec'd at 

Gaines' Mill. 
Bryan, W. A. ; June io, '61 ; disc, on sur. cer., Feb. 

11, 63. 

Bruner, S. ; June 23, '61 ; pris. May 5, '65, to Ap. 17, '65. 
Black, U. J. ; June 10, '61 ; died Dec. 26, '62 ; buried in 

M. A. Cem., D. C. 
Beam, J. ; June 10, '61 ; died Aug. 7, '62, of wounds 

rec'd at Gaines' Mill. 
Brewster, J. C. ; June 10, '61 ; died July 23, '62 ; buried 

in M. A. Cem., D. C. 
Boreland, J. W. ; June 10, '61 ; died May 22, '62. 
Campbell, I. ; " " must, out with Co. 

Christy, H. F. ; 

Cannon, J. ; June 23, '61 ; absent, sick, at muster out. 
Campbell, R. G. ; Feb. 29, '64 ; trans, to 190th ; pris., 

died at Andersonville, Aug., '64. 
Campbell, Wm. ; June 10, '61 ; died Aug. 1, '63, of 

wounds rec'd at Gettysburg; bur. N. C, sec. D., 

grave 39. 
Clark, C. ; died May 12, '65; bur. Cypress Hill Cem., 

Long Island. 



234 In the Ranks. 

Dobson, J. ; June 10, '6i ; mort. wounded, May 30, '64. 
Donaldson, J.; June io, '61 ; pris. May 30, '64; disc. 

Dec. 16, '64. 
Edgar, H. J. ; June 23, '61 ; disc, for w'ds, Nov. 23, '62. 
Eshenbaugh, J.; June 10, '61 ; trans, to 190th; pris., 

May 30, '64, to April 17, '65; must, out vet. 
Fliger, E. S. ; June 10, '61 ; disc, on sur. cer., Nov. 

27, '61. 
Fliger, Jacob ; June 10, '61 ; disc, on sur. cer., Nov, 

27, '62. 
Graham, Jas. K. ; June 10, '6i ; wounded; must, out 

with Company. 
Grossman, Lewis; June 10, '61 ; wounded, with loss of 

arm and leg, May 11, '64; died Aug. 3, '64; bur. 

N. C, Arlington. 
Hindman, R. S. ; June 10, '61 ; must, out with Co. 
Halstead, Jn. ; June 23, '6i ; " 

Hilliard, W. ; " 

Hilliard,W. H. ; June 10, '6i ; disc. sur. cer., May 11, '62. 
Henlen, Jn. D. W. ; June 10, '61 ; disc. sur. cer., Jan. 

8, '63. 
Hoffman, Ed.: March 4, '62 ; trans, to 190th. 
Hilliard, Eli ; June 10, '61 ; died at Richmond, Jan. II, 

'63, of wounds received at Fredericksburg. 
Hyskill, G. ; June 10, '6i ; killed at Fred., Dec. 13, '62. 
Hart, Samuel ; March 4, '62 ; died Aug. 10, '62. 
Karner, Wm. ; June 10, '6i ; must, out with Company. 
Krause, R. ; June 23, '6i ; pris. May 5, '64 ; disc. Mar. 

1, '65. 
Kepler, A. C. ; Oct. 1, '61; w'd and pris. at Games' 

Mill ; disc. 
Kautch, Wolfgang ; June 10, '6i ; disc, for wounds, 

Dec. 31, '63. 



M USTER - ROLLS. 235 

Kenedy, B. F. ; Mar. 4, '62 ; trans, to 190th ; disc, at 

expiration of term. 
Larden, T. P.; June 23, '61 ; wounded at Fred. ; pris. 

May 5 ; disc. Mar. 14, '65. 
Linsay, F. ; June 10, '61 ; died Jan. 4, '63, of wounds 

rec'd at Fred. Dec. 13, '62 ; bur. M. A. C, D. C. 
Livermore, J. ; Oct. 1, '61 ; trans. V. R. C, Dec. 31, '63. 
Miller, S. ; June 10, '61 ; pris. May 5, '64; disc. Mar. 

5, '65- 
M'Cleary, S. E. ; June io, '61 ; pris. May 5, '64; disc. 

Mar. 5, '65. 
M'Gill, W. B. ; June 10, '61 ; disc, on sur. cer., Dec. 

30, '61. 
Malarkey, D. ; June 23, '61 ; disc. Feb. 11, '63. 
Moore, W. E. ; June 10, '6i ; disc, for w'ds, Sept. 1, '63. 
M'Murry, S. ; " " " " Dec. 3, '62. 

M'Elhany, R. ; " " " " " 29, '62. 

M'Elvain, R. ; " " " " Jan. 15, '63. 

M'Call, Alex. ; Feb. 8, '62 ; " " rec'd at Fred. 

Milford, J. P. ; Aug. 26, '62 ; trans, to 190th. 
Monnie, F. H.; Sept. 21, '62; trans, to 190th; disc. 

at expiration of term. 
M'Murry, R. ; Feb. 8, '62 ; trans, to 190th ; disc, at 

expiration of term. 
M'Camy, J. ; Feb. 24, '62 ; trans. V. R. C, Dec. 21, '63. 
Miller, Isaiah : June 10, '61 ; died Aug. 13, '62 ; bur. 

at Point Lookout. 
Martin, Wm.; Sept. 21, '61 ; died of w'ds. Sept. 17, '62. 
M'Bride, W. A. ; June 10, '6i ; killed at Gaines' Mill, 

June 27, '62. 
Martin, P. G. ; June 23, '61 ; deserted Mar. 20, '63. 
Patterson, H. B. ; June 10, '61 ; must, out with Co. 
Pearce, J. M. ; June 10, '61 ; disc, for w'ds, Oct. 29, '62. 



236 In the Ranks. 

Pearce, R. C. ; Aug. 26, '62; died Dec. 13, '62; bur. 

M. A. C, D. C. 
Pettigrew, A. J.; June 10, '61; died July 11, '63, of 

wounds rec'd at Gettysburg. 
Porter, J. R. ; Oct. 5, '61 ; died Sept. 25, '62, of w'ds 

rec'd at Bull Run, Aug. 30, '62. 
Rhodes, G. M. ; June 10, '61 ; disc, on sur. cer., Aug. 

23, '62. 

Rothmire, G. ; June 10, '61 ; disc. Sept. 12, '62, for 

wounds rec'd at Gaines' Mill. 
Rinker, Wm. ; June 10, '61 ; disc. Sept. 12, '62, for 

wounds rec'd at Bull Run, Aug. 30, '62. 
Russel, D. H. ; Aug. 26, '62 ; trans, to 191st. 
Rosenberry, J. ; June 10, '61 ; died at Macon, Ga., Dec. 

24, '62, of wounds rec'd at Fredericksburg. 
Russel, O. H. P. ; June 10, '62 ; died at Richmond, 

Dec. 31, '62, of wounds rec'd at Fredericksburg. 

Sloan, Wm. ; June 10, '61 ; must, out with Company. 

Seaton, Amos; " 

Shryock, S. P.; June io, '6i ; pris. May 5, '64; disc. 
Mar. 5, '65. 

Say, Hon. H. ; Oct. 7, '61 ; trans, to 191st. 

Stevenson, J. H. ; June 10, '61 ; killed at South Mount- 
ain, Sept. 14, '62. 

Schmidt, C. ; June 10, '61 ; killed at South Mountain, 
Sept. 14, '62. 

Shepard, J. M. ; Sept. 21, '61 ; disc, for w'ds, Feb. 24, '63. 

Taylor, J. L. ; June 10, '61 ; must, out with Company. 

Thompson, W. S. ; June 10, '61 ; disc, on sur. cer., 
Aug. 2, '62. 

Thompson, J. ; Oct. 13, '61 ; killed at Gaines' Mill. 

White, Allen ; June 10, '61 ; killed at Wilderness, 
May 5, '64. 



Muster-rolls. 237 



donfc&qy f), lltl) P. f(. V. d. 

Wm. Stewart, Capt.; July 5, '61 ; w'nded 2d Bull Run ; 
killed at Fredericksbug, Dec. 13, '62. 

Jacob Baiers, Capt. ; July 5, '6i ; disc. April 9, '64, for 
wounds received at Gaines' Mill. 

Jas. P. Boggs, Capt. ; July 5, '6i ; Brev. Maj. ; wd. 
twice, pris. once, must, out with Co. 

J. S. Kenedy, 1st Lt.; July 5, '61 ; disc. June 13, '63, for 
wds. received at South Mountain, Sept. 14, '62. 

Jesse Donaldson, 2d Lt. ; July 5, '6i ; died at Alex- 
andria, Va., May 5, '62. 

J. O'Harra Woods, 2d Lt. ; July 5, '6i ; killed at Get- 
tysburg, July 2, 63 ; N. C, sec. C, grave 35. 

Wilson R. Potts, 1st Sergt. ; July 5, '61 ; disc. sur. cer. 
June 10, '62. 

Wm. C. Coleman, 1st Sergt. ; Sept. 8, '61 ; trans. 190th 
to 1st Lt., Co. I ; must, out June 28, '65. 

Robt. Ash, Sergt. ; July 5, '61 ; disc. sur. cer. June 10, 
'62. 

Jn. Ganz, Sergt. ; July 5, '6i ; must, out with Co. 

Sam'l J. Chrisley, Sergt. ; July 16/61 ; killed at 2d Bull 
Run, Aug. 30, '62. 

Jac. B. Kinsell, Sergt.; July 5, '6i ; died Jan. 20, '63; 
wounds received at Fred. ; Alex, grave 691. 

G. W. M'Gaughey, Sergt. ; July 5, '6i ; died Rich. Feb. 

10, '63, wounds received at Fred., Dec. 13, '62. 
David C. Steen, Sergt. ; July 5, '6i ; trans. 190th; wd. 
Gaines' Mill, Fred., Wild. ; killed Weldon R. R., 
Aug. 19, '64., vet. 
Geo. Weber, Sergt. ; July 5, '61 ; wounded Fred. ; pris. 
May 5, '64; disc. Dec. 17, '64. 



238 In the Ranks. 

Jas. M'Clelland, Sergt. ; July 29, '61 ; must, out with 

Co. 
Jas. M. Graves, Sergt.; July 12, '61 ; pris. May 5, '64; 

must, out Dec. 18, '64. 
Jn. Dunbar, Corp.; July 5, '6i ; killed at Gaines' Mill, 

June 27, 62. 
Silas Amberson, Corp. ; July 5, '61 ; killed at Gaines' 

Mill, June 27, '62. 
Robt. G. Gilleland, Corp ; July 5, '61 ; disc. sur. cer .., 

Feb. 4, '63. 
David P. Stewart, Corp. ; July 5, '61 ; killed at Gaines' 

Mill, June 27, '62. 
David S. Parks, Corp. ; July 6, '61 ; killed May 30, '64. 
Jas. R. Moore, Corp. ; July 29, '61 ; disc, on sur. cer., 

Feb. 7, '63. 
Jas. B. Shafer, Corp. ; July 29, '61 ; trans. 190th ; must. 

out June 28, '65. 
Dan'l Graham, Corp. ; July 5, '6i ; pris. May 30, '64; 

died — . 
Jesse Fry, Corp. ; July 5, '61 ; must, out with Co. 
Chas. Minnemyer, Musician ; July 6, '6i ; promoted to 

prin. muse, Nov. 1, '63 ; must, out with Co. 
Alf. Nixon, muse. ; July 5, '6i ; must, out with Co. 

PRIVATES. 

Addleman, Lind. H. ; Feb. 24, '62 ; died at home on 

Furlough. 
Barron, Barn. C. ; July 5, '61 ; disc. sur. cer., Aug. 3. 

'62. 
Beers, Jn. ; Feb. 8, '62. ; trans. 190th ; pris. Aug. 19, 

'64 ; not accounted for. 
Berchtold, Jas.; Feb. 25, '62 ; trans. U. S. N., Nov. '62. 
Beers. Sm'l ; July 5, '6i ; trans. V. R. C, Sept. I, "63. 



Muster-rolls. 239 

Beggs, Jn.; July 5, '61 ; trans. V. R. C, Sept. 1, '63. 
Beatty, Jn. M.; July 5, '6i ; killed at Gaines* Mill, 

June 27, '62. 
Bedillion, Peter; July 16, '61 ; died Jan. 17, '62. 
Beltz, Chas. ; ; died Sept. 4, '62 ; bur. Alexandria, 

grave 212. 
Boggs, Wm. ; July 5, '6i ; must, out with Co. 
Brennamin, S. ; March 18, '64 ; trans. 190th ; pris. 

Aug. 18, '64; not accounted for. 
Brown, Robt. J.; July 16, '61 ; trans. 190th; not ac- 
counted for. 
Brown, Jn. M. ; July 5, '6i ; must, out with Co. 
Brunnermer, Geo. ; Feb. 8, '62 ; trans. 190th ; wd. May 

30, Aug. 18, '64; must, out, vet. 
Burr, Jacob; Feb. 25, '64; trans. 190th; pris. Aug. 19, 

'64 ; not accounted for. 
Cartwright, Linas ; July 16, '61 ; disc. sur. cer., March 

1, '64. 
Campbell, David ; July 16, '6i ; disc. sur. cer., Aug. 

28, 63. 

Cowan, Jn. ; July 5, '61 ; disc sur. cer. 

Corans, Jn. ; Sept. 12, '6i ; trans. V. R. C, Sept. 1, '63. 
Cress, Dan'l ; July 29, 61 ; " " " " 

Critchlow, A. W.; July 5, '6i ; died at N. Y., Oct. 2, 

'62. 
Critchlow, J. W. ; July 5, '61 ; killed at Gaines* Mill, 

June 27, '62. 
Cornelius, T. J. ; July 29, '61 ; killed at Gaines' Mill, 

June 27, '62. 
Conders, Jn. ; July 5, '6i ; killed at Bull Run, Aug. 

30, '62. 
Dodds, Jasper P. ; July 12, 61 ; died at Richmond, July 

18, '62, of wds. received at Gaines' Mill. 



240 In the Ranks. 

Dodds, W. F. ; July 29, '6i ; disc. sur. cer., Oct. 7, '62. 
Deer, Jac. ; July 5, '6i ; disc. sur. cer., March 11, '63. 
Divinney, J. G. ; Sept. 21, '61 ; disc. sur. cer, May 9, '62. 
Elliott, J. P.; July 5, '61 ; pris. May 5, '64; died — . 
Fleming, T. H.; July 5, '61; trans. 190th; must, out 

with Co., June 28, '65, vet. 
Frail, M. ; July 5, '6i ; killed at Gaines' Mill, June 27, 

'62. 
Fry, W. M. ; July 5, '6i ; died at Washington, D. C, 

May 31, '62. 
Graham, D. W. ; Sept. 21, '61 ; disc. sur. cer., Aug. 18, 

'62. 
Gilleland, R. S. ; Feb. 10, '64; trans. 190th ; pris. Aug. 

19, '64; not accounted for. 
Gilleland, W. ; Feb. 10, '64; trans. 190th; pris. Aug. 

19, '64; not accounted for. 
Gilpatrick, M. ; March 17, '64 ; trans. 190th; pris. Aug. 

19, '64; disc. July 5, '65. 
Gibson, Israel; March 17, '64; trans. 190th; pris. Aug. 

19, '64; disc. July 5, '65. 
Graham, D. W. ; Aug. 19, '6i ; trans. V. R. C., Sept. i, 

'63. 
Greer, J. A.; July 5, '61 ; trans. V. R. C., Sept. 9, '63. 
Hussleton, G. W.; July 5, '6i ; pris. May 5, 64; disc. 

Dec. 22, 64. 
Haslett, S. F. ; Sept. 10, '6i ; disc. sur. cer., Nov. 21, 

'62. 
Haslett, J. B.; March 3, '62; trans. V. R. C., Sept. 1, 

'63. 
Hare, Peter; July 12,61; trans. 190th; pris. Aug. 19, 

'64; shot Salis., N. C, Dec. 22, '64, vet. 
Hoyt, Oscar C. ; Sept 21, '61 ; trans. V. R. C., Sept. 

1, '63. 



M USTER - ROLLS. 24 1 

Johnson, J. B. ; July 25, '6i ; died May 30, '62 ; bur, 

M. A. C, D. C. 
Johnston, Vernon; July 5, 61 ; died July 9, '6i. 
Kenedy, Alex. ; July 29, '6i ; disc. sur. cer., Feb. 9, 

'63- 
Kenedy, W. H. H. ; July 5, '6i ; trans. 190th ; pris. 

May 5, '64; must, out June 28, '65, vet. 
Kalb, Eckart; March 10, '62; trans. 190th; wd., loss 

of arm, May 30, 64. 
List, Wm. ; July 14, '61 ; must, out with Co. 
Lyon, Sm. A. ; July 24 '61 ; k. Bull Run, Aug. 30, '62. 
Leonard, Jas. ; July 5, '61 ; deserted Aug. 31, '6i. 
M'Nair, Robt. A.; July 5, '61 ; must, out with Co. 
Mushrush, B. L. ; July 5, '6i ; wd. May 5, '64; must. 

out with Co. 
M'Donald, D. (1) ; July 5, '6i ; must, out with Co. 
M'Donald, D. (2) ; July 16, '6i ; disc. sur. cer., June 25, 

'63. 
M'Aleer, B. W. ; Feb. 24, '62; trans. 190th; pris, Aug. 

19, '64 ; not accounted for. 
M'Bride, R. E. ; Dec. 15, '63; trans. 190th; must, out 

June 28, '65. 
M'Comb, J. H.; Feb. 9, '64; trans. 190th; pris. Aug. 

19, '64 ; not accounted for. 
Miller, Ed.; Feb, 25, '64; trans. 190th; must, out with 

Co., June 28, '65. 
M'Curdy, S. R. ; Sept. 8, '6i ; trans, to Co. B., May 1, 

'62 ; disc. sur. cer., June 4, '62. 
M' Knight, J. ; Sept. 12, '61 ; trans. V. R. C, Feb. 5, '64. 
Moreland, C. L. ; Apr. 22, '64; trans. 190th]; killed at 

Petersb., June 24, '64; bur. in Poplar Grove Cem., 

grave 173, sec. C. div. D. 
M'Cullough, M. F. ; July 6, '6i ; killed May 5, '64. 
16 



242 In the Ranks. 

Moore, Wm. ; July 16, '61 ; killed at Gaines' Mill, June 

27, '62. 

M' Kinney, J. A. ; July 5, '6i ; killed at Bull Run, Aug. 

30, '62. 
M'Neal, W. R. ; Sept. 8, '6i ; died Oct. 25, '62, of wds. 

rec'd at Bull Run, Aug. 30/62 ;bur. M. A. C, D. C. 
Nixon, J. E. ; July 6, '61 ; disc. sur. cer., March 28, '64. 
Overdoff, W. C. ; March 31, '64 ; trans. 190th; killed 

Oct. '64. 
Parker, S. C. ; July 5, '61 ; must, out with Co. 
Pisor, D. W. ; July 16, '6i ; died Nov. 16, '62 ; buried 

Camp Parole, Hospital Cem. Annapolis, Md. 
Pherson, R. J. ; July 29, '61 ; killed at Bull Run, Aug. 

30, '62. 
Rodgers, H. ; July 16, '6i ; disc. sur. cer., June 23, '62. 
Richardson, W. ; March 21, '62; trans. 190th; wd. at 

Fred. ; must, out June 28, '65, vet. 
Robertson, J.; Feb. 16, '64; trans. 190th; pris. Aug. 19, 

'64; died — . 
Rice, T. G. ; Feb. 13/64; trans. 190th; pris. Aug. 19, 

'64 ; died Dec. 23, '64, Salisbury, N. C. 
Rosenberry, S. J. ; Feb. 24, '62 ; died June 23, '62 ; bur. 

Mil. As. Cem., D. C. 
Rouch, L. ; Oct. 5, '61 ; died at home, Butler County, 

Sept. 8, '63. 
Smith, S. F. ; Sept. 8, '6i ; disc, sur cer., Aug. 1, '62. 
Shearer, W M. ; Sept. 8, '61 ; disc. sur. cer., Aug. 27/62. 
Stevenson, B. ; Feb. 24, '62 ; disc. sur. cer., March 25, 

'62. 
Snow, Alf. M. ; July 5, '61 ; trans. 190th ; pris. Aug. 19, 

'64; died Salisbury, N. C, vet. 
Shank, A. ; Sept. 8, '6l ; trans. 190th ; must, out June 

28, '65., vet. 



Muster - rolls. 243 

Shank, Jn. ; Feb. 26, '64 ; trans. 190th ; not accounted 

for. 
Silvers, M. ; Sept. 21, '61 ; trans. V. R. C. 
Stanley, J. S. ; March 31, '64; trans. 190th; wd. May 

30, '64; not accounted for. 
Sinott, Wra. ; Sept. 8, '6i ; killed at Bull Run, Aug. 29, 

'62. 
Summerville, J. H. ; July 5, '61 ; died at Annapolis, 

Md., Feb. 28, '63, of wds. rec'dat Fred. Dec. 13/62, 
Teets, Al. ; July 5, '6i ; absent at muster out. 
Thompson, R. W. ; July 5, '61 ; must, out with Co. 
Thompson, G. ; July 23, '61 ; " " 

Williamson, Hugh; July 5, '6i ; wd. at Fred. ; absent 

at muster out. 
Woods, Wm. ; July 5, '6i ; died at Camp Pierpont, 

Dec. 6, '61. 
Young, Geo. ; Feb. 8, '62 ; disc. sur. cer., June 11, '62. 



dorupkqy d, 190^ ¥. V. 

Neri B. Kinsey, Capt. ; June, 1, '61 ; Brev. Maj. Oct. 

1, '64; wounded Oct., '64; disc. Mar. 8, '65. 
Moses W. Lucore, 1st Lt. ; June 1, '61 ; pris. Aug. 19, 

'64 ; must, out June 28, '65. 
Benj. F. Wright, 2d Lt. ; pris. Aug. 19, '64 ; must, out 

June 28, '65. 

Keeley, Sergt. ; must, out June 28, '65. 

Haslett, " " " 

David C. Steen, Sergt. ; killed Aug. 19, '64 ; sec. D., 11. 
Thos. H. Lindsay, Corp. ; Dec. 21, '63 ; disc. gen. ord., 

June 1, '65. 



244 In the Ranks. 

PRIVATES. 

Brown, Robt. J. ; July 16, *6i ; vet., not accounted for. 
Beers, Jn. ; Mar. 17, "62 ; " " " 

Burr, Jacob ; Feb. 25, '64 ; " 

Brunnermer, George ; Feb. 8. '62 ; ward 2 ; mus. 
Brennamin, SI. ; Mar. 18, '64 ; pris. Aug. 19, '64 ; not 

accounted for. 
Bovard, Joseph O. ; June 8, '61 ; must, out with Co., 

June 28, '65, vet. 
Conner, Wm. ; Sept. 22, '62 ; pris. Aug. 19, '64 ; disc. 

gen. ord., June 1, '65. 
Coleman, Mike; Dec. 15, '63; must, out with Co., 

June 28, '65. 
Dunn, Geo. ; Sept. 22, '62 ; disc. gen. ord., June 1, '65. 
Edgar, Jn. ; must, out with Co., June 28, '65, vet. 
Eshelman, Abram ; Dec. 9, '63 ; died of wounds rec'd 

at Petersburg, Va., June 17, '64. 
Fulkerson, Smith; Mar. 31, '62 ; disc, at expiration of 

term. 
Fleming, Thorn. H. ; July 5, '61 ; must, out with Co., 

June 28, '64, vet. 
Fuller, Jn. A. ; pris. Aug. 19, '64 ; died at Salisbury 

N. C, Dec. 12, '65. 
Fairbanks, D. ; pris. Aug 19, '64 ; died Nov. 24, '64. 
Gilpatrick, Mark; Mar. 15, '64; pris. Aug. 19, '64, to 

Oct. 8, '64 ; disc. July 5, '65. 
Gilleland, Robt. S. ; Feb. 10, '64 ; not accounted for. 
Gilleland, Wilson ; " 

Gibson, Israel ; Mar. 17, '64 ; " " " 

Hare, Peter; July 12, '6i ; pris. Aug. 19, '64; died at 

Salisbury, N. C, Jan. 30, '65, vet. 
Harris, Abram ; Feb. 3, '64 ; disc. gen. ord., May 16, '65. 



Muster - rolls. 245 

Harris, Wm. ; Feb. 3, '64 ; must, out with Co., June 

28, '65. 
Kalb, Eckart ; Mar. 10, '62 ; wounded, with loss of 

arm, May 30, '64. 
Kenedy, W. H. H. ; July 5, '61 ; pris. May 5, '64 ; 

must, out with Company, June 28. '65, vet. 
Klinglesmith, C. ; Feb. 5, '64 ; must, out with Co., 

June 28, '65. 
Lewis, Wm. ; Oct. 25, '64; disc. gen. ord., June 5, '65. 
Lyons, Owen; Dec. 21, '63 ; trans. V. R. C. 
M'Aleer, Bernard W. ; Feb. 24, '62 ; not accounted for. 
M'Bride, R. E. ; Dec. 15, '63 ; must, out with Co. 
M'Comb, Jas. H. ; Feb. 9, '64; pris. Aug. 19, '64; not 

accounted for. 
M'Guire, Robt. R. ; June 8, '61 ; mustered out with 

Company, vet. 
M'Guire, Jas. N. ; June 8, '6i ; must, out with Com- 
pany, vet, wounded. 
Miller, Ed. ; Feb. 25, '64 ; must, out with Company. 
Nicholson, Jn. ; Dec. 31, '63 ; pris. Aug. 19, '64, to Feb. 

7, '65 ; disc. June 12, '65. 
Overdoff, Wm. C. ; Mar. 31, '64 ; killed Oct., '64. 
Payne, Wm. : Oct. 20, '6i ; disc, at expiration of term. 
Rice, Thos. G. ; Feb. 13, '64 ; pris. Aug. 19, '64; died 

at Salisbury, N. C. 
Richardson, Wm. ; Mar. 21, '62; must, out with Co., 

wounded. 
Robertson, Jas. ; Feb. 16, '64; pris. Aug. 19, '64; died 

at Salisbury, N. C, Dec. 23, '64. 
Rutter, Wm. ; wounded at Petersburg, June 18, '64; 

died July 1 5, '64. 
Snow, Alf. M. ; July 5, '6i ; pris. Aug. 19, '64 ; died 

at Salisbury, N. C, vet. 



246 In the Ranks. 

Shank, Andrew; Sept. 8, '6i ; must, out with Co., vet., 

wounded. 
Shank, Jn. : Feb. 26, '64 ; not accounted for. 
Scott, W. D. ; June 8, '61 ; disc. Jan. 23, '65, vet. 
Stohker, Abram; Dec. 21, '63; pris. Aug. 19, '64, to 

Jan. 23, "64; disc. June 12, '65. 
Sweeney, Chas. ; June 8, '61 ; pris. Aug. 19, '64, to 

March 1, '65; disc. June 24, '65. 
Thiel, Anthony ; Feb. 4, '62 ; disc. gen. ord., June 2, '65. 
Walb, Leonidas C. ; June 21, '6i ; must, out with 

Company, vet. 
Youler, Benj. F. ; June 20, '6i ; must, out with Co., vet. 



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NEW EDITION. Contains 1928 Pages, 

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Washington, N. J. 



(Drcans and Pianos, 



BEATTY 



ORGANS & PIANOS. 

Organs. Church, Chapel and Parlor, $3© to 
$1,00«»,3 to «» Stops. Piaiioiortes.Grund,Squaro& 
Upright,* 135 to *»1 ,«OO.Sent on I rial war ran tea. 
Illustrated Catalogue with Steel-Plate FKfcE. 
Address or call on Daniel F. Beatty, Washington, N. J. 



mum 



14 Stops, 4 Sets Reeds, ONLY $65. 

PIAN0S,$125 up.Paper free. Address 

Daniel P. Boatty, Washington, N. J. 



BEATTY 

ORGANS & PIANOS. 

Organs. Church, Chapel and Parlor, $30 to 

Si .«OA9,3 to a 3 Stops. Pianoi'ortes.Grand.Square & 
Upright,*! 35 to $l,<iOO. Sent on trial warranted. 
Illustrated Catalogue with Steel-Plate FREE. 

Address or call on Daniel F. Beatty, Washington, N. J. 

BEATTY 



CABINET ORGANS. 

CTfTJRCK, CHAPEL ATVO PARLOR. 

BEATTY PIANOFORTES. 

^ OR AND SQUARE AND UPRIGHT. 

Best and Sweetest-Toned Instrument in the World. 
flRCAW^ 1 ^' **°» *-^°' u > ®1 « 000 » ® to 83 Stops. 
un«HI\iap| ANOS) )$135 up to $1,600. Every m- 
Strument ftilly Warranted. Sent on trial. Beautiful 
Illustrated Catalogue and Steel-Plate Engraving 
free. Those desiring to buy are requested to visit my 
factory here, and select the instrument in person. 
Address or call on Daniel F. Beatty, Washington, N. J. 



